The Turnaround
by blondie403
Summary: Modern-day Tangled story. Eugene is taking part in community service while waiting for an upcoming trial. Rapunzel is fresh out of eighteen years as a prisoner in her own home and ready to take on the world.
1. Chapter 1

**Something happened with this first chapter and I've only just realised, so I'm re-uploading. Hopefully this helps it figure itself out.**

**Elements of the movie Barefoot will be scattered throughout this story. If you haven't seen it, you definitely should. It's basically just a grown-up version of Tangled, at the end of the day.**

* * *

His lips twisted as the mop hit the water in its bucket too hard, sending a soapy mess down on his boots. This wasn't good for his image. Or his expensive shoes.

Just two weeks left until his community service was up and he could kiss this place goodbye. The trial on its way probably would result in worse than him mopping floors, but he pushed that thought out of his head as quickly as he could.

He'd been stationed to complete his service at what he liked to think of as an adult boarding house. Somewhere for people too old for foster care to be put to sort out their lives. He knew all about it. He'd lived in one just like it. Cheap rent, usually government subsidised, while they tried to help you find a job and get you on your feet. Not for him. He'd take swiping things that weren't his over letting someone help him do basic tasks any day.

There were only two floors, not including the entry floor he was on now. His job was to make the entry shine, as if it could look welcoming in any way, and then the halls above him, knocking on doors to see if any of the tenants would like garbage removed or basic cleaning. They'd really screwed him over with this one. He didn't suit the title of "servant".

Flynn Rider was only known to do his best for himself. He figured if he got _most_ of the floor it was good enough. This place was never going to look good enough. This place was never going to look remotely alright. It had probably been built forty years ago, and the beige paint was peeling in the top corners. There was a huge ugly desk, too centred in the room, which had suffered graffiti with pens and nails so there wasn't a smooth spot of wood to be seen. Flynn had never seen anyone working there, so it didn't seem to matter. Once the building had been a hotel, and he doubted the desk had been used since.

The lights above him were a foggy yellow and his eyes always seemed to adjust to it and go into shock when he walked out into the street after he'd finished. He tried not to think about leaving when he'd just started his shift. He didn't like being told where to be. He usually rebelled against it, but with his upcoming trial he was trying to be on his best behaviour.

The glass doors behind him opened and he heard heels clicking against the stone floors. He didn't bother to turn around to see who had entered.

"It's _huge!"_

"Don't worry, your room's smaller than this one."

"Who's that?"

"Don't talk to him," the last sentence was said quieter than the others, but Flynn expected he'd been meant to hear it.

The girl with the heeled boots walked behind the desk and shuffled around in its shelves for a second, muttering to herself in a whisper. Flynn had seen her before, when he'd first started his service. She was very tall and thin with a short, blunt hair cut. Good looking enough to take ho,e, but she didn't seem like much fun. She obviously worked for the people in charge of the housing or something.

Flynn, not interested enough in their interaction but finding it more amusing than his mop and bucket, turned to find the other girl watching him curiously.

He was uncomfortable almost immediately. People he'd caught staring at him usually looked away awkwardly, but this girl didn't. Her eyes were too wide and her eyebrows too high, and she stared him down, unashamed.

There was something odd about her. She wore a large knitted cardigan and a dress sizes too big for her that hung to her shins. Her feet were bare and she curled her toes when he cast his eyes down at them. Her hair was a yellow-blonde that was cut to her hips without any style. It obviously wasn't her natural colour – an inch or two of dark regrowth was present at her roots where her hair parted.

"Okay," the first girl breathed as she found what she was looking for. "Here's your key. Got everything?"

"Everything I own," the blonde girl murmured, resting her hand on the single canvas shoulder bag that hung at her side.

"Then let's go."

Flynn raised his eyebrows uncomfortably as he dropped the mop to the floor once more. The girl was probably a victim of family violence or a disaster that took her home and family away or something. Maybe she'd gotten herself into a relationship too young and it had taken a turn and she'd fled with just a bag of clothing and no shoes. She seemed a bit haunted, whatever the circumstance.

The pair of girls disappeared into the old elevator and Flynn put them out of his mind and focused on completing his jobs as quickly as possible. He might have time to meet up with an old girlfriend at a bar if he pushed himself.

The rooms were the easier side of the work. Almost everyone wanted garbage collected, but the majority of tenants usually did their own cleaning. Not to mention a few of the rooms had been empty since he'd arrived. Corona had a good support program for people who needed it, so there wasn't really a reason to be unemployed unless that's what the person wanted. People usually moved in and moved on pretty quickly.

He was in a daze as he moved along the hall, knocking on each door, usually receiving a response, putting the bags of garbage in his trolley and providing them with a bag for the next day. He usually tried not to think about how much work he had left. He felt like that made the time quicker, but he was probably just being hopeful.

He got to door 14 and sighed. Two doors left and he could move upstairs to the last part of his service. From memory the last couple of doors on this floor were usually empty, but he always knocked just incase. He lifted his knuckles and rapped on the door loudly.

A terrified shriek, followed by a large clattering sound came from inside and he grabbed the door knob immediately.

"Hey, you okay in there?" he leaned toward the door, but there was no answer.

Great. He'd caused someone to have an accident just by doing his job. He was going to be in shit over this.

"Hello? You alright?" still no answer. He twisted the door knob between his fingers, and it opened easily to an empty room.

The room was undecorated, just the staple furniture and appliances that was provided to all tenants. Maybe the scream had come from another room, this one looked like it hadn't been used in a while.

"Hello?" Flynn took half a step forward and leaned inside, trying to see over the counter in the kitchen to make sure no one had taken a fall or something.

And that's the last thing he remembered.

* * *

He was disorientated when he woke up, however long later. There was a ringing in his ears and the back of his head was killing him. He reached up to rub a hand against it, to see if he had a welt or something, but a solid wall stopped his arm.

He pressed his hands frantically in front of him, then to the sides. Nothing but walls. It was pitch black and he could feel thin cloth around him. Shit. Someone he owed money to had found him and buried him alive.

He felt his heart speed up in his chest and he tried to breathe evenly. What was the last thing he remembered? He threw his head back and a tiny sliver of dull light caught his eye. He pushed his hand forward carefully, silently, and followed the light. He could feel a crack. It was a door. He jiggled it, but it seemed to be locked from the outside. He heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere outside, and after a few seconds, the door was pulled open in front of him.

It was that weird blonde girl from downstairs. She was protecting herself with a frying pan held out in front of her, and he suddenly knew what had caused his migraine. He lifted his hands up in surrender and arched an eyebrow at her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked threateningly.

"What? I came to see if you had any garbage you wanted me to take."

She frowned at him. "What do you want with my garbage?"

He chuckled in disbelief and rubbed his eyes. "It's my job. For now. Not my actual job."

"What's your actual job?" the hand holding her frying pan started to lower itself and she looked him curiously, her head slightly tilting to the side.

He looked toward the door. This girl was even weirder than she looked. "Why do you need to know?"

"I don't need to know. I was just asking."

"Well it's none of your business."

"Why do you work here if it's not your actual job?"

"Jeez, what's with the interrogation? Am I allowed to leave and do what I have to do? What time is it?" he looked for a clock on her walls, but of course her room wasn't furnished enough for that. And he'd left his phone in his trolley, texting his friend to see where she'd be headed tonight. To a small bar not far from here, then hopefully back to his place.

"You were only in there for half an hour. I made sure you weren't dead." She seemed pleased with herself.

"Great," he sighed, lowering his arms completely. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," she chewed on her lower lip for a second, staring him down again with her big green eyes. "You were mopping the floor."

"Listen, Blondie,"

"Rapunzel,"

"Gesundheit," he started walking toward the door slowly, still aware of her weapon in her hand. "I've got places to go and people to see. You've already made me late getting out of here, so if you don't mind I'll be on my way."

"Where are you going?" she followed his step toward the door.

"Out," he stated. He reached for the door handle and turned around, glad to see she was still a few steps away. "Look, keep your door locked. You don't know what kind of people could be wandering the halls in here. Your frying pan won't keep you safe while you're sleeping." He stepped outside and stuck his head back in just enough to see her watching him curiously. "See ya, Blondie."


	2. Chapter 2

**I want to say thank you for the follow and review! It definitely helps motivate me to know there are people out there reading!**

* * *

Flynn discarded the trolley back in its storage cupboard – no one would notice he hadn't gotten all of his work done, surely – and made his way outside. The sun had gone down, but most of the year was warm in Corona, and he didn't need a jacket. There was no wind. The moon was bright in the sky and he knew further out of the city he'd be able to see thousands of stars. On top of the summer seeming to last nine months here, rain was a rarity. It had been named the Kingdom of the Sun centuries ago for a reason. Now there was no monarchy in rule, but the title stuck.

It would take him ten minutes or so to make his way to the bar where his friend was waiting. He had a car, but he decided to walk most of the time. Everything he needed was within walking distance for him, and he wasn't one to drink and drive. Even _he _wasn't stupid enough for that.

There were few people on the streets that night, being mid week. Mostly couples looking for some dinner or people on their way home from work. He avoided eye contact with anyone. The majority of the city was reasonably friendly, with that old town charm where they'd smile and offer a greeting, but he wasn't the kind of person out to make friends.

He was just exiting the shadier side of town when he got the feeling he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder, turning and stopping very suddenly when a familiar mop off blonde hair caught his eye.

For the first time, she looked a little ashamed at her actions. She was still barefoot, her shapeless outfit was hiding her figure as she stood, not three feet from him, on the footpath.

"I want you to take me out with you," she said innocently, as if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

He was speechless, which was something he couldn't remember ever happening before. _"What?"_

"You said you were going out…I've never been out. I want to go out with you." Her eyebrows raised themselves even higher on her forehead as she looked at him hopefully. Her words and tone sounded wrong in his ears. Plenty of girls had asked him out before, and usually he said yes. But she wasn't asking in the way they usually did. There was something completely innocent in the way she looked at him, as if his face or figure or fantastic hair didn't affect her in any way.

He wasn't stupid – he knew he was an attractive man. Girls were never too shy to let him know, especially when he was out for the night and alcohol was involved. This girl was either too young or too unaware of her surroundings to realise. Or a really good actress. He was traditionally attracted to girls who looked a little more in place of the city; tight jeans, styled hair, a bit of makeup. The fact that she, herself, didn't seem interested wasn't what bothered him about this situation. It was the fact that there was a girl out there who didn't seem attracted to him at all.

"I'm meant to be catching up with a friend, I don't know if she'd appreciate someone else tagging along," he hoped she wasn't clueless enough to pick up on his hint to leave him alone.

"Your girlfriend?" she asked. Again, no jealousy. She merely appeared to be curious.

He crossed his arms, maybe to shield himself from her never-ending questions. "No, I don't do girlfriends."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

"If she's not your girlfriend, maybe she wouldn't mind if I came with you? She might be my friend too."

He tried to imagine the two of them in a conversation, but failed. This girl seemed like she'd arrived from another planet, and he couldn't see anyone he knew entertaining her for long enough to have a conversation. So why was he?

He looked around, as if trying to find something that would help him get her to leave quicker. There was nothing he could think to say that would make her realise she was better off without him. He needed something to make her want to leave him alone, or he'd be doomed every time he washed the floors. Something to make her think leaving and going home was _her_ idea.

The sound of a glass shattering and a loud round of cheering sounded from across the street, and they both turned their heads to look at a small, shabby pub lit from the inside. The door was closed, but the music and conversation was loud enough for them to be able to hear that it was a collection of gruff, male voices. The paint outside was peeling and the LED sign that bared the name of the pub was so old that only a couple of the letters were still lit up.

_The Snuggly Duckling_. Flynn hadn't been there before himself, but it was constantly mentioned in stories in the newspaper for being a place of bad dealings. The pub had been taken over by an outlawed motorcycle gang decades ago, and in turn the area had become less and less inhabited, until it was just the gang and other people rough enough to join in with their business who visited the pub and lived in the surrounding houses and apartments.

He pulled his eyes away from the pub to find her watching him again. He found he wasn't as creeped out by her as he'd been earlier. Maybe he was getting used to the size of her eyes. Maybe he had a concussion.

"I'll make you a deal. How about I take you out, just for a little while? We'll go get a few drinks, have a chat. And then I'll take you home and I'll go meet up with my friend later. I'd hate for you to have to walk home all the way from where I'm meeting her in the middle of the night. This way you'll be safer. And we'll start somewhere small, work your way up to the bigger, scarier places." He said the last part through his teeth as he attempted a smile. The place he'd been destined to attend was a nice joint. Not expensive, but clean and classy. If he wanted to do this right, he had to make sure he'd terrified her enough that she never wanted to go out with him again.

"Really?!" she seemed delighted, and she leaned toward him excitedly. "That's great! Where should we go?"

"Well, I hear the Snuggly Duckling's good…very quaint. And it's so close to where you're staying!" it was easier than he expected to mimic the excited way she spoke.

"Well…" she looked over her shoulder at the pub, apparently unaffected by the noises they could hear from within. It currently sounded like someone was having a table thrown at them. She looked back to him, her eyes holding nothing but excitement. "I _do_ like ducklings!"

"Yay!"

She followed him across the street, his new shadow, and he pushed the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall behind it. And for the first time, he saw her hesitate. The pub was full of men who looked to weigh at least three times what Flynn did. There was an overturned table right inside the door, and two men holding their faces on either side of it. One had a bloody nose, and it dripped down his hands and arms, into his grubby sleeves. A short, bearded man was lying on his back in the centre of the room, his arms outstretched beside him, wearing nothing but his underwear. They could see from where they were standing that he was missing a couple of teeth.

The noise died down dramatically when the patrons spotted the newcomers. They were met with over a dozen stares, and Flynn saw Rapunzel swallow dramatically beside him.

"Smell that?" he took her by the shoulders and guided her inside, to the bar, seating himself on a tall stool and watching her as she hopped up to get on her own. "Take a deep breath through the nose," he leaned toward her and she did the same, fear present in her wide eyes.

The smell was of bitter beer, and what he thought might be stale blood. It didn't seem to have been dusted for years, and he gritted his teeth as he leaned his arms on the bar in front of him. The floor had been sticky, sections of the carpet underneath his feet squishing with moisture and he knew on her bare feet it would have felt filthy. From here they could see the white outline of a body on the worn-through carpet, as if it had been part of a crime scene, and he caught her staring at it for longer than necessary.

"What can I get you to drink, Blondie?"

She looked away from the scene to shake her head at him. "I don't know…what should I have?"

"You don't know what you want? Have you got ID?" he doubted anyone would say anything about serving a minor in this place, or about her bare feet. There were about ten things more illegal he could see in his surroundings at the present time. He just needed to act disappointed that she was underage and say he'd have to take her home. Her wide eyes and pouted lips were those as of a young person, and her constant questions made him think she was even younger than she looked.

"Oh!" she dug her hands into one of the big pockets on her cardigan, pulling out two twenty crown notes, a scrunchie, a wilted flower, a key and a state-issued photo ID card. Of course she wouldn't have a driving license. He reached to take the ID out of her hand and held it up to his face, frowning as he read the information it held.

"Rapunzel Doe, huh?" it looked like the government had issued her name as well as he ID. He twisted his lips when he realised she was eighteen – the legal drinking age in Corona. It looked like he'd have to wait until she was too terrified to stay any longer.

"That's what my ID says," she sighed as she took the card back from him.

"What? That's not your name?"

"I don't know what my name is…" she just got weirder and weirder. He didn't bother asking her what she meant by this. He didn't care. "I don't know what to get to drink."

"What have you had before?"

"Water," she stated simply. "And apple juice."

"I'll get you something yummy," he reached for a sticky drinks menu as the barman finally made his way over to them, leaning threateningly over the bar. Flynn ordered his beer of choice, then the cocktail with the most amount of spirits and the least amount of sugar he could find. Something really filthy, that she wouldn't like the taste of. That would show her.

"You Flynn Rider?" the bar man asked in a growl.

That was unexpected. It seems his reputation was as good as the bar's. He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Who wants to know?"

"We had someone in here last week who was trying to round up a team to go looking for you. Says you owe him a lot of money." The bartender leaned over him even further, looking around as if to try to find the man in question. His arms were spread wide on the bar, and Flynn wondered whether he was trying to appear like he was about to lean forward and grab him. He had a hook for a hand. Flynn resisted making a pirate joke and waved the menu in front of the man's face.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. The only money I have to my name I worked hard to get. I'm not in the business of screwing anyone over. Now, are you going to take our order, or not?"

Hookhand, as Flynn decided to dub him, chuckled sarcastically and looked down at Rapunzel. "Something wrong, Princess?"

"What happened to your hand?"

Flynn dazed out at this point, firstly to appear as though he barely had a connection with this girl who he figured was about to get more than a stern talking to from the enormous man in front of her, and then he just gave up on the conversation completely because his grand plan had gone horribly wrong. He didn't like failing.

He didn't know how exactly, or when it happened, but somehow Miss Crazy made some kind of connection with the beastly men surrounding her. Flynn stared at the bar through his beer while Rapunzel entertained ten or so thugs.

She ended up hating her drink, so Hookhand had offered her something pink and bubbly "on the house" after he explained the long and devastating story of losing his hand in a previous line of work. She liked the second drink. Flynn didn't know if it contained alcohol or not, but when she started singing to a man with an abnormally large nose about dreams, he kind of figured it did.

They loved her. They genuinely seemed to think she was the most fantastic thing since sliced bread. Flynn didn't get it – she was loud and annoying and asked too many questions. And how had she managed to make her way around the pub twenty times and still had no glass in her feet?

He was starting to feel the effect of his alcohol, and he checked the time on his phone before sighing and pushing back into his pocket. His friend had long since left the bar, and he was sitting here next to a cross-eyed goat wishing he'd just gone home to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Rapunzel was the happiest she'd been since she could remember. She had a new home to decorate, and a dozen new friends who didn't look at her funny or tell her she was weird, and she was out enjoying her new life! Yay!

Every so often she would watch Flynn, because he didn't seem to be enjoying himself and she didn't understand this. _He'd_ been the one who wanted to come here, after all. He'd checked his phone numerous times and didn't even try to learn the song she and her new friends had made up. He was just sitting with his head resting in one hand, drinking his third drink. She'd been keeping count.

At one point in the evening she started feeling a little bit dizzy. She noticed her brain didn't seem to be keeping up with her eyes, and she decided she should sit down for a few minutes, just until she started feeling better. She was bound to get a few dizzy spells every once in a while, being out and having all of these new experiences after all.

"Hey, Flynn," she sighed. She attempted to jump back up onto her bar stool, but that felt dangerous and for some reason this seemed very funny to her. She climbed up clumsily and tilted her head so she could see his face.

"Hey, Blondie. Having fun?"

"I'm having the best night _ever!" _she threw her arms out and then leaned forward, smacking the bar in front of her excitedly. "Are you having fun?"

"Oh, Blondie, you have _no idea._ I don't think I've ever had this much fun in my life."

"That's good! I was worried you were bored, you've been super quiet…" she clutched the bar for a second and paused, frowning at a beer tap with a duck painted onto it.

"You okay?" Flynn looked up at her for the first time.

She nodded gently. "Just a bit dizzy."

"Hmm, what are they giving you to drink?" he picked up her glass and took a small sip. "It's not too strong. But I kind of assumed you'd be a lightweight."

"What's a lightweight?"

"Thought so," he took another sip of beer.

"Can I try that?" she asked, pointing to the pint glass in his hand. She waited for an answer, but he handed it to her without saying anything. He _had_ tried hers, he supposed.

Rapunzel took too big a mouthful, and then wished she hadn't. She swallowed, and it was a struggle, and handed it back to him, shaking her head. "I don't like it!" she exclaimed in a gasp.

"I didn't think you would,"

"It's better than the drink you gave me. That tasted like poison!"

"That's the alcohol." Flynn stated, rolling his eyes a little.

Rapunzel stared at him, open-mouthed. "I drank alcohol?"

"You're _drinking_ alcohol," he nodded toward her pink glass and turned away from her, as if she'd take the hint and leave.

Rapunzel thought about that for longer than she probably should have. She convinced herself she didn't need to panic about this. Flynn and the other guys seemed to think it was such a big deal...

"My mother said that drinking alcohol would set your insides on fire."

"Sounds like she has a pretty wild imagination." Flynn turned to her again. "I think she's got it wrong."

"But she said alcohol is highly flammable and the chances that it will ignite inside you are too high to take the risk…are _you_ drinking alcohol?"

"Are you serious? It's beer."

"Oh, yeah," she didn't know if that meant yes or no, but it looked like he expected her to. She still felt a bit funny…what if that was her organs lighting up? She decided to distract herself, so she didn't seem crazy. She wasn't ready to be brought back to reality quite yet. "So, Flynn, where are you from?"

"Sorry Blondie," he downed the last of his beer with his head tilted back and let the glass fall to the bar. "I don't do backstory…but how about you? Where have you escaped from?"

Rapunzel straightened in her seat, and for the first time that night, her eyes lost their youthful glow. "Who said I escaped?"

"Well, I'm just piecing things together…people with steady jobs and home lives don't end up in government housing too often."

"Um, well…" she'd told this story to one other person since getting out – Cassandra, who was helping her with things like organizing how to live in her new home and grocery shopping and figuring out what kind of clothes she liked to wear. Cass had already known her story before they met, but she'd asked Rapunzel a few questions at any rate, just to get to know her better. Cass had pulled her eyebrows together and generally just looked like she was pitying her, which Rapunzel didn't think she liked. But Flynn didn't seem like the kind of guy who would pity her.

"I was inside for a long time," Rapunzel said honestly. "I left just over a month ago, and they took me to a hospital and asked me a lot of questions, and they've just decided I'm okay to be out living on my own…so that's why I moved in down the road today." Flynn didn't say anything, but she could tell he was listening, because he was staring at his empty glass and not blinking. She wondered if she'd confused him, so her hazy brain decided the best thing to do would be to keep talking. "So now I get to do all the things on my bucket list and go on adventures, and spend _all day_ outside if I want! Because I'm an adult and I have no one telling me what to do."

"Wait," Flynn turned in his chair so he faced her, and she mirrored him. "You were _inside_ for a long time? Inside what?"

On no. She'd freaked him out. She hadn't given away _too _much had she? _Change the subject Rapunzel._

"You know what?" she perked up and leaned back in her seat. "Attila makes cupcakes. And he's going to make a whole new batch, just for me! I'll share them with you, if you want?"

Flynn motioned for another beer, but was quiet for a long time. Rapunzel picked up the rest of her drink and finished it as fast as she could. She might as well join him in having another. She hadn't burned from the inside out as of yet.

They didn't say much as they sat beside each other, but Rapunzel thought Flynn looked too sad and lonely to be left by himself again. A few of the thugs came up to have a talk with them, but Flynn didn't give much to the conversation.

Rapunzel liked them. They were all big and scary-looking, like her mother had said people were, but they were kind and they listened to her and they didn't talk to her like she was stupid.

When she looked up at the clock on the wall and it was almost midnight she gasped. She'd never been out of bed this late before.

"Flynn?" she asked hesitantly. He was looking at his phone again, but his screen was too dark for her to see what he was doing.

"Yeah, Blondie?"

"I think it's time to go home. It's almost midnight."

"Oh," he seemed to come alive immediately. "So it is, I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was so late. We'd best get you home immediately."

"Well, you can stay if you're having so much fun…"

"No, no, I'll make sure you get home safe."

She smiled at his kindness and jumped off the stool, realising when she stood she felt even hazier than before. Alcohol, she reminded herself.

The thugs were disappointed to see her go – they didn't seem to think it was too late at all – and she promised them they would be back soon. Flynn didn't say goodbye.

Almost as soon as they'd stepped outside Rapunzel sank into a crouch and held her head in her hands. She couldn't help but let out a little groan.

"Something wrong, Blondie?" Flynn watched her with his hands in his pockets, unable to keep the smirk off his face. He'd definitely succeeded in making sure she'd never force anyone to go out with her again.

"I don't feel very well…" her voice was a whisper and she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could. She wanted to look up at him and tell him she needed help, but she was too scared to look at anything at all. Apparently looking and moving her head were bad ideas after alcohol.

"Yeah, drinking will do that to you. Come on, only a few minutes until you're home."

"I don't think I can do it."

Flynn chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, watching the pathetic girl in front of him. He definitely could just leave her there. She knew the way home. It wasn't helping anything standing over her like this, and he'd done the same in numerous situations of the like beforehand.

But there was something about this girl that told him that might not be a good idea. She'd befriended someone mopping for community service, then an entire pub of outlaws not long after that. She'd been lucky so far that none of them were bad news.

Well, Flynn supposed he was kind of bad news for young ladies like her, but he was good-looking, and they were usually all for it.

Still, if she wandered home at the rate she was going she was sure to run into a few people before she got there. And in this part of town, those people might not want to see her get home safe.

"C'mon, Goldie, you'll feel better when you're in bed."

She stood up at his command, slowly, and looked down at a weed growing out of the pathway in front of her to keep her eyes focused. Then the set her lips in a straight line and took the first step toward home. Flynn followed behind her, watching her feet unsurely.

Her building was in view when she stopped again, and this time she put her hand on his arm.

"My mouth is filling with saliva."

"Thanks for sharing,"

She turned to him with panicked eyes, and he felt as though she were looking right into his soul. He wanted to take a step back, but he knew what was coming and he didn't want to surprise her and make it happen sooner.

"I read in an anatomy book that your mouth fills with saliva right before you vomit, to create a protective coating between your taste buds and your stomach acid."

"It might make you feel better…" he turned her toward her neighbour's garden bed and held her shoulders so she couldn't look at him again and ruin his shirt.

"I don't want to," she gasped, and he saw tears fill her eyes. "I've never thrown up before! I don't know how!" she dry heaved, and let out a little moan. "I'm scared."

And before he could offer any other words of comfort, she lurched toward the garden bed and expelled a stream of pink bubbles.

"Good job," he said comfortingly. His hand went to her back and gave it a bit of a rub. "Get it all out. You'll thank yourself later." He'd rubbed at least three small circles before he froze, almost ripping his hand away from her.

What was he doing? Flynn Rider did not comfort girls, whether he knew them or not. And he definitely didn't know this girl. She was weird and too young and too immature for any of this. He'd been trying to get her to stay away from him, and now he was walking her home to make sure she was safe and helping her stay calm while she puked.

Maybe the beer had gotten to him, too.

She didn't say anything when his hand left her back, but she stayed hunched over for a few minutes, perhaps too scared to stand up in case it set her off again. Flynn appreciated that. The less vomit the better.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped when she finally straightened up. She wrapped her arms around herself, just her skinny wrists sticking out of the end of her huge sleeves and hung her head. "I didn't mean to do that."

He could see tear tracks on her cheeks from the orange streetlamp behind him and he frowned. "You don't need to apologise to me. It was your first time drinking, you can't expect it to be perfect."

"But you've been so nice to me, and we were having a good night, and I ruined it. I ruin everything."

If she thought he'd been nice to her all night, there was something seriously wrong with her. He'd just about ignored her since they set foot in the pub, and what he _had _said was snarky and sarcastic. They fell into an awkward silence, because Rapunzel was feeling a deep depression fall over her, and Flynn didn't know what to say. Even if he had something to say to make her feel better, he wouldn't have. He was meant to be making her never want to see him again, and judging from her pathetic appearance right now, he might have succeeded.

"I think I'll go the rest of the way by myself," she said quietly,

"You sure?" _Yes! Go by yourself and never follow me out again._

"Yeah," she sighed, finally peeking up at him. "You've done more than enough for me tonight. Thank you, Flynn. I really mean it."

"Okay, well," he awkwardly put his hands in his jacket pockets and took a step back, away from her. "Goodnight,"

"Thanks," she offered him a small smile. "Get home safe, I hope you have sweet dreams."

Flynn tried not to snort at the way she spoke like a child. He hadn't heard the phrase "sweet dreams" since he was in the orphanage. He half-waved and turned quickly, walking away from her without looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

Flynn used his side to push a stack of books further onto the desk, his arms full of new stock he needed to price. He heard the door swing open and shut, but didn't bother greeting the newcomer. There was already a stern-looking woman browsing, and he hadn't offered her a hello either. Superficial greetings weren't important. People were here to shop, not get to know each other.

He stuck small price labels onto each of the spines of the books, alphabetising them in their little pile so it would be easier for him to put them in their places when he took them to the shelves. He heard the sound of a hard-cover being placed onto the counter, and smiled as he turned toward the woman, who was looking down at the blurb on the back through her glasses.

"Just taking that one today?" he asked, checking the price on the side and typing it into the old cash register. Everything was old-fashioned in this little store.

"Thank you," she murmured, handing him the cash. A flash of yellow caught his eye, and he looked up, just in time to see hip-length, messy hair disappear behind one of the shelves. The woman in front of him was apparently sick of holding up the fifty-crown note, because she sighed and put it down firmly on the counter in front of him.

He didn't apologise for his lapse in concentration, ringing it through and putting it back on the counter just as firmly, instead of her outstretched hand. He could be an asshole, too.

He was still watching through the shelves when the woman left, but saw no more hint of who he knew was in the store. He picked up the books he'd already priced and left the front counter, walking toward the shelves where he'd seen her. No one else would leave the house with hair in that condition, surely.

Flynn pushed the books into their new homes, the small pile in his arms growing less and less, until he finally walked down one of the narrow aisles and saw her again. His eyes trailed down, from the frazzled ends of her hair brushing against the top of her skirt, to her bare feet, her toes tapping in time to music he couldn't hear.

"Are you stalking me or something?"

She turned around quickly, surprised by his voice. But there was no surprise on her face at the sight of him. "Hi, Flynn,"

"What are you doing here?"

She attempted to raise her left arm, but there were four quite large books in it, and she struggled under the weight. "I'm book shopping."

"No," he sighed and put the rest of his books into the shelves, putting his hands on his hips to let her know he wasn't backing down. He could offer to take the books out of her arms, as it looked like she was getting close to dropping them, but he didn't feel like being nice to her. "How did you know I worked here?"

"You told me, the other night,"

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did! When we were at the Snuggly Duckling! Right after you told me the friend you were going to meet was a hairdresser, and that I should look into someone to help me with mine."

Flynn groaned and rubbed his face. Too much alcohol made him chatty – not that he wasn't usually – and he'd been chatty to the wrong person.

"Well, you didn't actually tell me you worked _here," _ she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. "I tried three other book shops before I saw you out the front."

"You can't follow me around, Blondie. People have gotten in trouble for doing stuff like that."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Have they?" she thought about it for a second. "Cass said I need to make friends. I haven't seen her to tell her about the other night, but I had a good time. And I haven't seen you mopping the floors or working since then."

There was a reason for that. Flynn had been avoiding knocking on her door, and her next-door neighbour's, since she'd followed him out. He didn't really want to end up with another lump on his head from her frying pan, and he definitely didn't want her thinking he was seeking her out for any reason. Best not to encourage her weirdo behaviour.

"Who's Cass?" he said, avoiding her eyes.

She bent to put the books she was holding on the floor. "She's helping me. Her father runs the housing I'm living in. Well, the one I'm living in and a heap of other ones. Cass comes around every couple of days and teaches me how to take care of myself."

"Is she giving you cooking lessons or something?"

"No! No, I know how to cook. I can cook really well!" she clapped her hands together with a wide smile. "No, Cass is teaching me how to go grocery shopping and how to shave my legs, and how to pay my bills. And she found me a new job."

_"I spent a lot of time inside…" _Her words from the Snuggly Duckling ran through his mind, but he told himself he didn't care enough to ask.

"Well, that's good. Can't be wandering around with hairy legs." He bent down to pick up her books, and walked them toward the counter without asking if she was looking for anything else. If he took her money and bagged them up, there'd be no reason for her to hang around.

She followed him willingly and stood in front of him while he checked the prices. They were all from the second-hand section, and most of them were only a couple of crowns. He snuck a look at what each book actually was while he put them in a bag for her. One was about the universe, one about dogs, one on DIY patchwork blankets, and the last about taking care of a fruit and vegetable garden. He didn't ask any questions, like where on earth she would start a garden with no yard.

"You want anything else?" he asked before she could hand him her scrunched up notes. "A bookmark?"

"No, thank you," she handed him her money and he gave her back her change without saying anything. He was about to turn to the desk behind him when she spoke again. "Flynn, I really just wanted to say thank you for the other night. For helping me when I was sick and making sure I got back to my building okay and everything…that was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me, and I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," he muttered, trying not to look at her like she was crazy. He didn't say anything else, and she took the hint and left the shop with a little smile.

He was torn somewhere between feeling really annoyed by her, and really upset that she'd appreciated his minuscule actions so much. He knew he hadn't treated her great the other night. The only time he went out of his way to help a girl was when he knew he was going to be rewarded by getting in their pants. He'd treated her like shit the entire time they were out, then left her on the street after she'd been sick. Anyone else would have at least walked her right to her room, maybe even gotten her number to call in the morning and make sure she hadn't choked on her own vomit during the night.

He didn't feel bad. He wouldn't admit that to himself.

He also wouldn't admit that there was something about her that had stuck with him after the other night. The last couple of days he'd thought about her on and off. Not in a romantic way at all. Not even in a fond way. Just in a way that left him with more questions every time.

What did she mean about being inside for a long time? Why was she so clueless about…well, _everything._ Surely she had friends she'd been to school with or met from previous jobs, so why wasn't she spending time with them, instead of following strange men out of her new home? She needed to be more careful. Flynn knew he wasn't a good guy in the least, but someone else could have taken complete advantage of her in that situation. And he expected she would have been too clueless to even know what was happening until the worst.

She haunted his mind for the rest of his shift. This weird girl with way less attraction than most of the women he saw every day. He was good at forgetting people. There were very few people he considered friends, but he was extremely social. He was the king at being intimate with a woman and never thinking about her again.

So it was weird that this girl, who he'd not even looked at sexually, hung in his head like no one ever did. Maybe he felt sorry for her. That was a good explanation. Not that he was going to take it on his shoulders to help her in any way. He was sure after today she wouldn't be back. She'd come to say what she had to say, and he'd dismissed her, and he knew she'd understood this time.

When the sun slipped behind the buildings on the street outside the shop and he flipped the closed sign on the door, he sighed and rubbed his face. He didn't have community service tonight, which was good, but he didn't feel like doing anything. Which meant he'd most likely be going home by himself and waiting for tomorrow, and he didn't like sitting still without distraction for too long. The trial coming up played on his mind when he wasn't keeping himself busy, and he really didn't feel like troubling himself with that tonight.

He heard the sound of heavy feet descending the steps in the staff room, and rather than gather himself and putting on a show of having no care in the world, he let himself stay slumped on his stool with his head in his hands. This was one person in the world he could almost be himself with.

"Eugene," the old man entered the main part of the store and walked up behind him, clapping his shoulder with a wrinkled hand. "Bad day?"

"No, the day was fine," Flynn handed him the receipts and the money from the till. He wouldn't dream of keeping something extra for himself. Not from Frank. "I'm just not feeling myself tonight."

"You don't have any plans?" Frank leaned toward him to see his face, but Flynn didn't make eye contact. "You want to come upstairs for dinner? Joan's making her meatloaf – your mum's favourite."

"No, thanks," Flynn was on his feet in an instant, grabbing his jacket off the back of the stool and throwing it over his shoulder. "I actually think I'll go out. There's someone I've been meaning to catch up with for a while."

"You sure?" for the first time he looked at the old man in front of him, who seemed a little disappointed, but not surprised at the dinner rejection. "Okay," he patted Flynn comfortingly on the arm a couple of times and tucked the small bag of receipts under his arm. "Well, you ought to come up and see Joan occasionally, at any rate. She hasn't been feeling the best lately."

"I will Frank, I promise." Flynn cleared his throat and pulled away from the old man's touch. "Thanks for the offer."

The air was warm when he exited the shop, locking the door behind him. He was usually one to stay and have a conversation with old Frank, but he just wasn't up to it tonight.

He didn't go home. He needed to distract himself, as drained as he was feeling. He went to one of his regular bars and seated himself next to a familiar-looking group, pulling out his phone and sending a quick message to the friend he was supposed to catch up with a few nights previous. The night that Crazy Pants had bludgeoned him with a frying pan and locked him in her closet. If he were anyone else, the police probably would have been called, but he knew they'd just find a way to turn it around and make him at fault. He was keeping a low profile until they finally scheduled his trial.

"Is this seat taken?" a familiar voice, one with an ever-present smile, sounded much too close to his ear, and he immediately snapped on his best Flynn-Rider face and turned to her.

"Bec,"

"Hey, Handsome." She slipped into the seat beside him and ordered her usual drink. He usually had one waiting for her, and she seemed to notice his lapse. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he lied easily, leaning back in his chair and wrapping an arm around the back of hers. She may have known him better than anyone right now, but even she couldn't see through his façade. He was a good actor.

She thanked the bar tender and took a delicate sip of her drink. "I was worried when you ditched me the other night."

"Ah, I got held up with work stuff."

"Community service stuff?" she chuckled. She caught the look on his face, and her eyebrows drew together worriedly. "Seriously, what's up?"

"I'm just tired." He was slipping, and he thought for a second it may have been better to just give attention to one of the many girls he hadn't spoken to in the bar tonight than invite one of his only friends.

"Is it the trial? Have you heard anything yet?"

"Not since they pushed it back last."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "To make way for _real_ criminals. Get through the rapists and kidnappers, and _then _let you in."

He didn't say anything. He'd done bad enough to earn himself a place beside those people. He knew Bec wouldn't have agreed with that, but he was starting to crumble within himself, and he was exhausted of himself. He wondered, once the trial was over, _if_ he got off and was free to do whatever he wanted again, would he go back to it? Would he stay the same as he'd been since he turned 18 and decided he could make his own path in life, as bad as that path might be?

They only hung around for an hour or so before standing to leave. Whether that was because he was horrible at conversation tonight, or because Bec was impatient from getting her Flynn fix later in the week than usual, he didn't know.

He smirked at her as they stood to leave. The brunette in front of him stood at exactly six foot. Thin, but not skinny in an immature way, with legs that seemed to go on forever. She wore a loose-fitting dress – she knew she was beautiful, she didn't have to dress the way most of the girls here did – and a pair of heeled boots. Her makeup was always perfect, and her shoulder-length hair always styled.

Her height made it easy for him to kiss her without having to bend down like he typically would have. With her heels, she seemed to be just his height, and he took advantage of this as soon as his door was closed and locked behind him.

She laughed as he pushed her against the wall and grinned at her, before stealing her mouth away.

Their clothes were discarded along the floor, in a path to his bed, and they went about their night as they did, once a week at the least. Neither of them put on an act. Flynn tended to do so with other girls, really give them a show, make sure they never forgot about him and compared all their other conquests to him for the rest of their lives. Bec was different. They knew each other, and they needed each other, at this point in their lives.

He gripped her hips as he finished, very aware she was watching his face above him, and she rolled off him, onto the other pillow, catching her breath.

"Thanks," she gasped, staring at the ceiling as they both breathed deeply.

Flynn's eyes grew heavy and he yawned widely. Bec didn't say anything beside him, and he knew she was too good for him to just fall asleep beside her. He asked her about work, to let her know he was interested in more than just using her to relieve himself.

"It's good. It's our busy season. Georgie's working all hours with me. It's nice, to have my sister so close."

"How's she doing?"

"She's with someone else. Another dickhead." She chuckled, and Flynn sighed. Bec's sister was known for having a horrible taste in men. He didn't join in with her laugh, because he knew soon she'd realise she was here, wasting her time with him, someone she had no future with, who had a bad reputation.

"Flynn," she sighed and pushed herself up on her right arm, turning to look down at him. "I know what you're thinking. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're a nice guy, you just have to sort yourself out."

"I'm not a nice guy," he smirked at her, but he could see she didn't buy it.

"You are," she insisted. "_Horrible_ to those poor girls who throw themselves at you every other night, but you know you're a good person, deep down."

"Thanks, Bec."

There was an awkward silence that fell between them, and she eventually ended it by clearing her throat and grabbing her phone. "I'd better go. Early start in the morning."

"Sure," he pushed himself up and sat, cross-legged under the sheet. "Say hello to Georgie for me."

"I will. See you Friday?"

"Of course,"

"Okay," she pulled her dress over her head and zipped up her boots. "See you, Flynn."

He watched her go, not bothering to stand to walk her out. He could see the front door from his bed, and she turned the lock before she pulled it closed behind her, facing the floor to avoid looking at him.

Flynn sighed, and, as was happening far too often, buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes roughly.

He wasn't stupid. He knew Bec was hoping for something more to come from their little catch-ups. She'd been in love with him for well over a year now, and he just kept playing her, knowing she'd always be there when he needed her.

She was too good for him. He _did _love her, but like a best friend, and he knew she wasn't ever going to be more than that to him. He'd thought about it for more than enough time, but he knew he was way too screwed up to have something as simple as a girlfriend. There was nothing in him that was dying for their next meeting, she didn't hang in his head after they'd parted. She was beautiful, and they spoke easily together, and there was nothing past what they had now that he wanted. She knew more about him than probably anyone else in the world. They'd known each other for a long time, and they were both going through their own struggles, finding comfort in each other when they needed it.

If he were a good guy, he'd tell her to give up on him and go meet someone else. She needed someone who was going to take care of her, more than sexually. She was someone who was close to her friends and family, and she was stuck in a rut, waiting for something that was never going to happen.

He flicked the switch on the lamp beside him, and rolled away from the windows on his wall, as if that would help him sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Thanks for dinner, Rapunzel. You didn't have to do that."

"Ah, that's okay. You've helped me heaps more than just cooking food."

Cass sat next to her at the counter, eating the rice and meatballs Rapunzel had just cooked up after their day of running around, getting paperwork sorted and buying clothes for Rapunzel's new job. The flat, black shoes sat together next to the bag of black jeans and t-shirts, and Rapunzel eyed them nervously, swallowing her mouthful of food.

"Are you excited to start work tomorrow?"

Rapunzel looked back to her friend and attempted a smile. "Mm-hm! It'll be good to be out making my own money for once."

"The girls in there are really nice too, I think you'll get along with them really well. One of the younger ones is someone I helped before, you know." Cass seemed much more excited about the idea of the shop. Rapunzel was struggling to feel anything but nerves at this point.

"Yeah, it will be nice to make more friends, as well. Especially girls."

Cass frowned. "You've made guy friends since being here? Not your neighbour…"

"Oh, no," Rapunzel shook her head quickly. The man living in the room beside her yelled at all hours of the night, and the one time she'd seen him, he'd been storming around the corridor without a shirt on his skinny, tattooed body, swearing at someone who wasn't there. She was sure he was very nice, and she'd just caught him at a bad time, but she'd rather not run into him again if she was being honest with herself. "No, um, I made friends with Flynn, the guy who mops the floors downstairs."

Cassandra put her bowl on the counter in front of her and took a long sip of water as Rapunzel's words settled themselves in her ears. She cleared her throat and looked up at the girl beside her. "Flynn _Rider?"_

"Yep," Rapunzel answered nervously.

Cassandra sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Rapunzel, Flynn Rider is not someone you should be friends with."

Rapunzel was confused. Cass was the one who had told her to go out and have fun and meet people wherever she could. She thought she'd be proud of her. "But he's really nice to me, and he took me out and we made a heap of friends at the Snuggly Duckling the other night."

"The Snuggly Duckling is dangerous! And he's probably grooming you to get in your pants! He has a reputation, and it's not a good one." Cass stirred her chickpeas and her rice for a second, attempting to calm herself down. She could lose her temper easily, and this was not the right person to do that in front of. Rapunzel didn't know what getting in anyone's pants had to do with anything, but she had no idea what to say next.

Cass continued, "You know why he's mopping the floors downstairs? Because he did the wrong thing, and the government thinks that's a good enough way to make up for it."

"I didn't know," Rapunzel murmured. Suddenly she wasn't hungry anymore. She felt like crying, but she knew that was stupid. She thought she was doing well, and that Cass would be proud of her, but it seemed everything she did, she just disappointed the people around her.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Rapunzel sniffed. "I went to visit him at work and I don't think he wanted to talk to me, so I won't be seeing him again."

"I'm sorry he hurt your feelings," Cass reached out and held Rapunzel's wrist, rubbing comforting circles. "But it's probably for the best. You don't want to get mixed up with people like him. You'll meet lots of new people through work! You won't even recognise yourself in a couple of months!"

Rapunzel nodded, faking another small smile, and took a spoonful of food so she didn't have to say anything more.

Cassandra didn't stay for long after that. She technically finished work at five, and it was twenty past when she made sure Rapunzel knew where she was going in the morning and wished her good luck. The cake shop she was going to work in wasn't far from her home, and she'd have no trouble navigating the couple of streets between here and there.

Rapunzel sat on the little couch against the wall and stared at her toes for a long moment, feeling absolutely hopeless. Cassandra thought it wasn't a good idea for her to be going out alone, so close to nighttime. This time of the day was the worst for Rapunzel. She thought getting out into the world would be amazing and she'd be happy every day, but she was honestly starting to feel more lonely than she ever had. She didn't know this place. Nothing about the bare walls or the mismatched, donated furniture was comforting to her. She had plans to get a television so she could feel like there was someone here, talking to her, but she didn't have to funds to do that yet.

She didn't even have her mother.

She felt tears prick in her eyes, and she let them leak out and run heavy and hot down her cheeks. There was no use holding it in when there was no one around to see it. Even Cassandra wasn't really her friend, she was getting paid to hang around and help her. It was her job, and Rapunzel knew when she was better and could afford to live without any help, Cass would stop visiting and they would lose touch.

She had no one. She was alone in the entire world, and she wished she'd never left home. The book she'd bought from Flynn's bookshop said that dogs made excellent companions and helped cure depression, but she wasn't even allowed to have one while she was living here.

Maybe she could get a fish. She was sure that wasn't against the rules. But she couldn't exactly hug a fish without hurting it, and she didn't know if they listened the same way dogs do.

She sniffed loudly and twisted her fingers together, jumping when she heard a loud knocking sound in the hallway, followed by a muffled, familiar voice.

"Any garbage to throw out?"

She wiped at her eyes and jumped off the couch, grabbing the door handle and twisting it as quietly as she could. She opened it just wide enough to stick her head through and look down the hall, to her right.

Her next door neighbour didn't look to be answering. Flynn's eyes slid to her door, almost as if he was expecting her to be there, and he frowned when he caught her looking back at him. "Something wrong, Blondie?"

She shook her head, wondering if she should close the door between them and forget about it. If he was really as bad as Cass had said, maybe she didn't want to know him at all. Her mother had warned her about bad people like him.

"Hey," he caught sight of her further and turned with concern, walking toward her slowly. "Are you crying?"

"No," she gasped, and her voice gave her lie away.

"What happened? Did someone –" he cleared his throat and stopped, shaking his head. His hands went to his hips, and when he spoke again, it was in the cocky tone she recognized. "You've gotta toughen up, if you're going to live in a place like this."

"I'm sorry," she looked down, at his shoes, and saw his toes tap a couple of times. "I didn't mean to bother you a the book shop the other day."

"You're good at your stalking, I'll give you that."

"Well, I won't do it anymore. Cass told me you're not a good person to be friends with."

"Me? I'm the best." He said confidently.

Rapunzel felt her head nodding. "I know, I tried to tell her, but she didn't want to listen to me. She said you'd done bad things. That's why you mop the floors."

Flynn chuckled quietly to himself. "Cass is the one with the dark, curly hair that is always here trying to force people to do things they don't want to do?"

Rapunzel nodded. "She took me shopping for shoes today. I start my new job tomorrow."

"Tell _Cass_ she doesn't have a clue what she's talking about."

She knew he wouldn't have done bad things! His hair was way too nice for him to be a criminal!

Rapunzel looked up at him and studied his face for a long time. "Are you upset as well?"

"No, why?"

"You look like you're sad."

He looked away from her quickly. "Me? Never." The door from her neighbour's house finally opened, and the skinny man stuck his head out of the door, throwing a tied-up plastic bag in Flynn's direction.

"Thanks," Flynn caught it and held it at arm's length, discarding it in the trolley. He turned back to Rapunzel and pushed it to her door. "How's your room going?"

"You want to come in?"

"I don't know how your friend Cass would feel about that." He muttered. How dare she go off and tell girls things they didn't need to know?

"She's not here, and I don't care." Rapunzel tilted her chin up, feeling taller as she did so. "And I made dinner. There's a lot of leftovers, if you're hungry."

He hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat. "Thanks, Blondie, maybe next time. I've still got upstairs to go, you know,"

"Oh, yeah," she looked away from him, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well maybe after."

"Sure,"

"Okay," she smiled for the first time, and he took that as his queue to leave. "Bye, Flynn,"

Flynn decided it was best to avoid her room. She was definitely not his type by any means, but he couldn't help thinking about her every time they had any form of communication. He decided this was because she was weird and seemed completely confused by the world, and who _wouldn't_ be concerned about her mental health or safety?

Best to attempt to never see her again. Clear his head of her, hope she succeeded in whatever she was doing with her life, keep an ear out for any stories of missing people turning up with frying pan-shaped wounds in their heads.

On Thursday night he took a blonde with curves she'd surely paid for home from the bar. She attempted to stay past their hook-up, but he pulled out all the stops to get her to leave, and he knew she wasn't happy. He shut the door behind her and had a very long, very hot shower, trying to clear his head as he shut his eyes under the water.

The state his life was in was starting to get to him. He could feel his confidence shattering, and Flynn Rider slipping away with it. But he'd built this world up around him, and he didn't know how to turn around now. Frank and Joan were the only people who knew who he truly was, and he wasn't ready to give up everything but the elderly couple who ran the bookstore. He knew he had to keep forging ahead, as he'd done for the last eight years, almost a decade, but he didn't know how to. He was tired. He was tired, and, though he wouldn't even admit it to himself, terrified of what was going to happen in the next couple of months. He wondered if it was too late to change his name again and take off somewhere new, start a new, very low-profile life somewhere he'd never heard of, where no one had ever heard of him. He knew he couldn't do that now, not with the law watching him.

He dressed in a pair of sweat pants and tied them at his waist, lighting a cigarette and sitting on the wide windowsill of the living area of his house. He hung one leg out of the open window and blew smoke over the city, watching cars pull out of their parks and join the slow-moving chain on the main road.

Flynn tried to convince himself he was just in a rut, he'd snap out of it soon enough, but he didn't know whether that was true this time. He was tired of running. He was tired of having no one he could really speak to. Frank knew Eugene, and Bec knew Flynn, but he didn't feel comfortable sharing his feelings with either of them. Being left to himself at eight years old with no one who really cared for him was enough to shut him off from people for the rest of his life.

He'd done the things on the checklist he'd made the last time he'd been caught, on his final heist. He had a steady job, he was renting a nice place in a relatively nice area. He was living off money he'd earned, and showing up to community service when he was supposed to. He wasn't hanging around the wrong crowd. He thought doing these things would make him feel better about the whole situation, but he was wrong. He knew he deserved to be put away, and at times like these where everything just felt hopeless, he didn't know whether that was something he would be unhappy with. At least if he was behind bars he might feel like he was where he was meant to be. That was something he hadn't felt before, maybe in his entire life.

His phone rang once on his bedside table, but he didn't bother getting up to check it, even when he'd finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into a tiny terracotta pot containing a shrivelled succulent. He knew it would be Bec, checking to make sure they were still on for tomorrow night. He also knew even if he didn't confirm with her, she'd be there, waiting for him, hoping he'd show. He should be the good person she expected of him and tell her not to worry about it, to go out with her sister or friends and meet someone new, but he was too scared to lose her at this point in his life, and he hated himself even more for that.

His eyes eventually grew tired as he sat there on the windowsill, feeling sorry for himself, and he eventually turned to climb into bed, expecting another restless night of tossing and turning, trapped inside his own head.


	6. Chapter 6

Flynn had avoided knocking on the door of number 14 since his initial meeting with Rapunzel, or whatever her name was. He wasn't afraid of her frying pan after their little meeting in the hall earlier that week, he knew she knew him and wouldn't render him unconscious again, but she freaked him out with her questions and the way she seemed to know how he was feeling, and he didn't feel like being under the gaze of her gigantic, green eyes again any time soon.

He only knocked on the door of her neighbour every couple of nights, and when he did it was quiet, and without words. The guy was usually in a drug-induced stupor, so Flynn knew he could get away with saying no one had answered if anyone questioned him.

He completed his mopping and the walk down both levels of housing in record time, locking away his supplies and leaving the building immediately. He didn't check his phone on the way out. He hadn't replied to Bec's text message last night, and truth be told, he didn't know if catching up with her was something he was going to do, even now as he wandered out of the building. His next stop would either be the bar or home, and he was going to let his feet decide rather than his mind.

He was tired of feeling sorry for himself, but he couldn't snap out of it. He felt like he'd hit a wall, and rather than try to climb over it, he was happy to just sit and accept this is where he had to stop in life.

He was only a couple of minutes into his journey home when he saw a pair of bare feet dancing their way across the road, her damaged blonde hair licking her hips as she made her way to the Snuggly Duckling.

It was almost dark. And she was wandering around this part of town _alone._

He decided he had time to give her a stern talking-to before he went about his night, maybe sneak up behind her and grab her, really scare her into not being stupid again. Not because she was his responsibility or anything. Just because he was bored and hating himself and needed a distraction.

He looked both ways before stepping out onto the always-quiet street and dug his hands in his pockets, trying to look as cool as one could when following a crazy girl into a pub full of thugs.

Being so casual, he didn't catch her before she skipped to the door and slid inside, her hair flicking against the frame of the door, letting yellow light pour onto the footpath outside, before it fell closed silently.

He paused before opening it. He knew she'd be fine with the guys she'd met the first night here, but he couldn't guarantee it would be the same crowd as before. There was every chance someone could be waiting for a girl like her to overpower, and he didn't know if he could live it down if he found out something had happened to her. Not that it was any of his business, or anything.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. A couple of guys right inside looked up at him as he walked in, but no one said anything. It was _exactly_ the same crowd as their first night here. Blondie was sitting in her bar stool, already chatting to Hookhand, her bare feet swinging a foot or two above the floor.

His fists balled as he set his mind to his next actions, and he strode over to her and took the stool beside her. She was turned slightly away from him, so he knew she didn't see who it was who had occupied the neighbouring chair, but she spoke to him as if she'd been expecting him.

"Why haven't you been picking up my garbage?"

He was at a loss for words. It seemed only she could have that effect on him. Rather than play stupid, he ordered a beer. Hookhand rolled his eyes rather than offering him a greeting, but poured one anyway, slamming it on the bar in front of him. The liquid sloshed out over the top and Flynn groaned as he wiped his hand dry on his pants.

"What, do I get a discount for a half-empty glass?"

"You should always see the world as a glass half-full," Blondie sang, taking a long sip of her pink drink through a white paper straw. She didn't pause long enough for him to snap at her. "Cassandra told me you collect the garbage. She wanted to know why mine was all still there since I'd moved in."

"Sorry, I guess I'm just used to your room being empty. I'll get it on Sunday." Flynn said quietly. He took a sip of his beer, not letting himself wonder why he was sitting here, entertaining her.

"Don't worry about it, Cass took it with her when she left this afternoon." She didn't look at him, even once, and he wondered if this was a new game she was playing with her. Blondie had learned how to play coy. "I think you're avoiding me."

"Is that right?"

"Yep," she popped the 'P' and kicked her legs a little more energetically, as if this made her excited. "Which is why I'm confused about you following me in here."

"Who says I didn't want to come out and enjoy a beer with my friends?" he held up his glass and nodded at Big Nose, who was listening in on their conversation on Blondie's right-hand side. The man ignored him and walked away, striking up his own conversation with a guy who looked like he'd put his tooth through his lip in a bar fight.

Rapunzel seemed not to be bursting to speak for once, and Flynn didn't mind that. He wasn't really in the mood to put on a show tonight.

They got through their drinks silently, and it was only when he ordered another for the two of them she finally turned to him, swivelling in her chair. Once again, she wore an over-sized dress, but she'd left her cardigan at home tonight, and he watched her cross her skinny forearms over her chest.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he looked at her easily, leaning back in the stool. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I've just been wondering why you try so hard to look like you're happy, when you're not."

"How do you know I'm not happy?"

She shrugged. "I'm good at reading people." She drained her glass, slurping at the ice in the bottom through her straw, and picked up her second drink. "I was also wondering if you're going to try to get in my pants."

He couldn't help the single laugh that escaped him at that. "I promise, you're not really my type."

"I don't know what any of this means," she sighed to herself. He didn't bother to explain for her. Wasn't worth the trouble. "Do you have a dog?" she asked, breaking him out of the weird path his thoughts were taking.

"No, should I?"

"Maybe. Apparently they make you feel better when you're sad. I feel like it might be beneficial to you."

"Okay, let's run with your theory and say I'm sad. Why do you think you can offer me advice? Are you the happiest person in the world or something?" he expected her to be hurt and stop talking, but she threw her head back and laughed loudly.

"No! I'm the most miserable person in the world! I have nothing!" she threw her arms up at her last statement and picked her glass back up. "But I have the Snuggly Duckling. And _aaaalll_ of my friends here."

"Yeah, they're great. Speaking of, why are you taking yourself out at night to a place like this?"

She shrugged. "I don't want to be inside anymore. If I'm inside I get scared, and I cry, and I feel lost. And I don't like feeling lost. I'm sick of that."

"Tell me about it," it was out before he could think about stopping himself, and he kicked himself, knowing she would turn around and have her 'Ah-ha!' moment, but she didn't. She didn't comment, she just put her straw to her lips and took a long sip. She finally set the glass on the table and leaned right in toward him. He wondered if he should pull away, but doubted she'd be brave enough to try anything physical on him.

"I'm not going to throw up tonight."

"Good plan," he agreed.

After her third drink, Flynn suggested she should switch to water. She was starting to get very talkative again, and started singing that song about dreams she'd made up last time. She clapped a hand to his shoulder and shook him gently. "What's your dream, Flynn?"

"I have no dreams," he told her. "My life's perfect – living the dream."

"You're lying," her eyebrows pulled together. "You don't have to act cool with me, Flynn. I'm the least cool person ever. You can be yourself with me."

He couldn't be himself with anyone. "Honestly, Blondie? If I could run away, live on an island all by myself, have no one to deal with, have everything I could ever want and need. _That's_ my dream. Corona's old news. I want to get out of here."

"I love Corona," she said dreamily. "I want to see _all_ of Corona. I want to see the murals in the square in town, I want to ride the tram, I want to see the floating lanterns on my birthday…" she sighed and hung her head. "All I wanted for my birthday this year was to see the floating lanterns."

He remembered checking her ID, that first night. Her birthday had been about a month and a half ago, on Corona Day, he now realized. Their national holiday was a celebration for everyone. No one worked, market stalls and street performers lined the main roads, and, as was part of Corona's culture for centuries, people would line up on the beach and release floating lanterns, sending them upward to the sun. Before science explained evolution the people here believed they had some special connection with the sun, and that's why it was their national emblem. The paper lanterns were illegal for the rest of the year, but they had that one night. Flynn had taken part in the releasing of the lanterns when he was growing up. The orphanage had taken all the kids to the beach and bought them each their own lantern. He'd stayed away from the celebrations since he was sixteen years old. They weren't for him.

"Why didn't you go see the lanterns?" he asked her, genuinely interested. He was too over himself to question why he was asking. He could feel his guard slipping, and this week had been too exhausting trying to keep himself in check. He was happy to just do what he was doing for now.

"My birthday this year wasn't…good." She said simply. She left it at that. She picked up a long strand of hair and began tugging at the ends.

Flynn couldn't hold it in anymore. He twisted his lips at her split ends, "Seriously! Did you do that to your own hair? It needs some help. Desperately. Or a trim, at the very least."

"They cut it when I left," she told him, as if this made any sense. "They said they weren't going to make it any shorter, in case I went into shock. They thought I'd lost too much already. But I want it gone, I don't like it. I want to start fresh properly, and this is just a reminder about everything. And the girls at work told me it was too long and I need to braid it instead of just tying it back, and no one else has to do that! People talk about it. I hate it."

"Hey! It's just hair!"

A crazy look entered her eyes and she clapped her hands together. "We should cut it tonight! You could cut it for me!"

"No, no, no," he held up his hands in defence. "You do _not_ want me doing that. But I do know someone who could help you." Seriously? What would Bec think if he waltzed through the door of her salon with this little weirdo in tow? He hoped she forgot that part.

"Your hairdresser friend."

"Yep," he sighed. So much for avoiding said friend.

Rapunzel sculled her water obediently, and then was gifted with a fourth glass of fizzy pink sugar. He knew they weren't strong, but he figured that was probably enough for her. Especially when she leaned across the bar and asked if Hookhand had any scissors to cut her hair right then and there. The large man acted like he hadn't heard her, maybe seeing too many drunken plans fail and move girls to tears in the past.

"Okay, Goldie, I think that's enough," Flynn took the glass out of her hands and set it on the bar in front of them. "Want another glass of water?"

"No," she smiled at him brightly. "You know what I really want to do? I want to get ice cream in a cup with a little plastic spoon and eat it while I walk around."

"You won't find an ice cream shop around here."

"That's okay! I'll walk around until I find one." She hopped off her stool and grabbed the tiny leather shoulder bag she'd brought with her, throwing it over her arm.

He followed her, slipping off his stool and checking his pockets for his phone, wallet and keys. He hadn't even looked at his phone since sitting down. Just for tonight, he wanted to be with someone who didn't know him, let himself shut his guard down and just be.

"Are you coming for ice cream?"

"I guess so. I'm a proper gentleman. Can't have helpless girls wandering around the streets at this hour."

He wandered in the direction of the only ice cream place he could think of. It was a Friday night, and most of the restaurants and dessert stores on the main streets were open late.

The ice cream place was lit up, as expected. A group of young adults were laughing and joking around at the counter. He caught Blondie watching them with wide eyes, leaning forward and listening into their conversation. A week ago, he might have convinced her to talk to them, see if they would entertain her and take him off his hands, but he didn't really want to be by himself right now.

She ordered a double scoop, one cookie dough and one chocolate-hazelnut. Flynn got a single scoop of vanilla bean with a handful of chocolate flakes.

She followed him obediently, not talking much as she devoured scoop after scoop of ice cream, and he lead her to the town square, sitting on a bench where they had a good view of the murals. She sat silently beside him, and for a long time, the small cup of ice cream was forgotten in her hands. When he looked up, a single tear track was present on her cheek.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm really happy," she sniffed, wiping at her face with a small laugh. "I can't remember being so happy. I get sad all the time now. I feel more trapped than ever and I'm out in the world, and just getting ice cream and seeing town for the first time is enough to make everything this good!"

"Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm from here, I've just never seen anything."

"Did you leave? Did you grow up somewhere else?"

She shook her head. "I was always just outside town. I never saw _anything!"_

He was struggling to understand. "But – how –"

"You know how you don't do backstory?" she asked him suddenly, watching him closely. He nodded. "I don't think I want to, either. I think I'm happy just to have you know me like this. I'm sick of people having opinions of me, and expecting me to be a certain way. I just want to be Rapunzel, or Blondie, with you. I want to be me, right now."

"Okay," he accepted that. He was with her tonight for the exact same reason. "No backstories," he agreed.

When their ice creams were finished, she grabbed his cup and discarded them in a nearby garbage bin. They walked through the square, stopping at each mural, and she was pointing out small shapes and details he'd never noticed before, commenting on the colours and images with fascination.

"I work at a cake shop now." She told him. Their conversation hadn't died down since being in town, and for the first time he wasn't annoyed with whatever she had to say. "The girls are nice, but they don't talk to me like they talk to each other. But I'm allowed to have one cake at the end of every shift. So far I've tried the passionfruit slice and the baked apple tart, and next I want to try the caramel muffin."

"Passionfruit slice is good," he said. "Where is the cake shop?"

She explained it in location to her home, and he thought he had a fair idea of where she was saying.

"That's my apartment, up there." Flynn pointed up at the glass window, where he sat at night when he was bothered with things, and she followed his finger tip.

"Can I see it?"

It wasn't the same as when girls usually asked to see his room. Usually they were pressed up against him, their eyes insinuating something they didn't need to say. She just seemed interested in seeing his space, where he lived. He paused, hesitating, pushing his hands into his pockets because for once, he felt awkward. There wasn't much to see of his place, but he knew she wasn't expecting anything more than a friendly visit, and he really had no reason not to invite her in.

"Sure, come up."

There was a store below his apartment, and he took her to the heavy door behind it, up the indoor flight of stairs, flicking on the switch at the bottom of the staircase and leading the way.

"Do you have a staircase all to yourself?"

"Yep," he didn't realise this was something to be excited over, but he appreciated her enthusiasm.

He slipped the key into the door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open, holding it for her to step through first.

His apartment was more of a loft; one large room containing a kitchen, dining, living and bedroom area. There was a small balcony that he never used to the side of the wide window, and a small bathroom through a set of French doors. He kept it clean. He didn't have much to his name, not caring enough to decorate for himself. He had no one to impress, and the girls he brought here usually only stayed for an hour or two and never came back.

It was a nice place. The walls were a clean white, the down lights in the ceiling bright, but not painfully so like in a hospital. The kitchen was modern and open, and he had a small television and DVD player, not that they were used too often. The couch was secondhand, from Frank and Joan, and the leather was soft from years of use. Bec had gifted him the one shrivelled pot plant that was now just used for an ashtray on the occasion he had a rare cigarette. His bed was unmade, because he wasn't expecting her company, and he usually didn't care. It was comfier jumping into a messy bed, he thought.

"You want a drink?"

"Can I just have a water?" Well, he wasn't about to give her any more alcohol.

He got out two glasses and filled them with the water jug from the fridge, handing her one of them as she wandered around, her bare feet silently tracing the floor boards beneath them.

"This is really nice. It smells like you in here."

"I wasn't aware I had a smell." He flicked on the lights on the balcony and opened the door, letting the warm, fresh air in off the street.

"You smell nice," she complimented him quietly. "Not that I've smelled a lot of people."

"So…what did you want to do?" he tried to think back to a time where he'd had a girl over and they hadn't gone straight to bed, but he was at a loss. This was definitely the first time.

She hummed to herself. "I don't know. What do people usually do in this situation?"

"Honestly?" she nodded for him to continue, and he laughed quietly. "They usually get in each other's pants."

"Oh," she frowned. "Isn't that a bad thing? Cass said it like it was a bad thing."

"Cass sounds like a bit of a wet blanket."

"Can you explain 'wet blanket' to me? Sorry," she bit her lip, looking a little bit embarrassed. "I'm trying to pick all of these expressions up as quick as I can, but I get overwhelmed with them all sometimes and forget to learn what they mean."

"She sounds like someone who wants to ruin all the fun."

"Oh," she thought about it for a moment. "She didn't want to play cards with me the other night, so I guess that makes sense." Rapunzel looked up at him for a long moment. "And I can see you trying not to laugh at me, so I don't suppose 'getting in someone's pants' has anything to do with actual pants."

"Not really, no,"

"Well, that's good, seeing as I'm not wearing pants."

"I'm not going to get in your pants tonight, Blondie, don't worry about me." He checked the kitchen cabinets for any snacks he could offer her, finding an old bag of microwave popcorn, opening it and setting it to cook for a few minutes.

"You're not going to explain that one to me, then?"

"Not tonight,"

He heard her quiet footsteps as she walked up behind him. "It's something sexual, then."

That surprised him. Their previous encounters had made her seem like she had the innocence of a young child, and it caught him off guard when the word slipped from her lips with ease. "Uh, yeah, it is."

"I've been reading up on human anatomy. I love it."

"Super fascinating stuff." He kept his eyes off her, looking for a big enough bowl to pour their popcorn into. He settled for a scuffed-up, plastic mixing bowl and sat it on the bench. "Want to watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? We could sit on the balcony and watch traffic?"

"I was thinking about something I'd like to do…" she wrapped her right arm around her opposite elbow, hiding her torso from him nervously and he felt his mouth go dry, nerves for once settling low in his stomach.

"And that is?"

"I meant what I said before – I want you to cut my hair."

_Oh._ The microwave beeped to break the short silence and he opened the packet, wincing as the steam burned his fingertips. "Really, Blondie, I wouldn't do a good job. You're better off going to a professional."

"No, I want it done now!" she insisted. "Really, I trust you. Anyway, it's just hair, it grows back, right?"

"I suppose so…"

"So cut it! I want it gone! _Please, _Flynn!"

He popped a few pieces of pop corn into his mouth and extended his arm, offering her the bowl. She looked down at it, her mouth falling open in confusion, and he could almost see her thoughts as she tried to figure out what it was.

"Pop corn."

"Pop corn?" she reached her hand out gently and took a couple of pieces, slipping them into her mouth and chewing slowly. "Yum,"

He smiled at her, genuinely, and he didn't care in the least that he was just letting himself be him. He was standing in his little kitchen with the strangest girl he'd ever met, confused more and more each time he spoke to her with how little she knew about the world and simple things, like pop corn. He'd agreed, no backstories, and he liked the idea of that, but there was so much that he desperately wanted to know the answers to. But he wasn't ready to share his story yet, and he knew it would have to be a trade or nothing. He was finally opening himself up, for once in his life, and he wasn't ready to voice his thoughts or fears, in fear Flynn would crumble completely and leave him, the _real _him, open and in plain sight. He didn't know how to live as Eugene anymore, and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to.

Without saying anything to her he opened the top drawer in the kitchen, pulling out the only pair of scissors he'd ever owned. He knew they wouldn't be sharp enough to give her a proper haircut, but she wasn't asking for one.

He walked her to the bathroom, and she sat on the closed toilet lid at his direction, facing the shower. He thought he was supposed to brush her hair first, or something, to make it sit flat, but he didn't have anything past a small comb and he knew that wouldn't help this situation.

He swallowed nervously. "How short do you want it?"

"I want it short. I want to be new."

"Show me with your hands."

Her fingers made a straight line at the top of her neck, and he hesitated. "Blondie, I don't want you to kill me if you hate it. That's really short, are you sure you don't want to work your way up to it?"

"It's just hair, Flynn, remember?"

"Okay," if she was going to lash out at him after, she had only herself to blame. He had no idea what he was doing, so he took her hair in one big handful, bunching it up at the base of her neck, positioning the scissors so the blades were on either side of the mass. "You ready?"

She started to nod, then realised the scissors were braced against her neck. "I'm ready,"

He hacked at her hair, holding it tight in his left hand, snipping away bit by bit, as much as the blunt paper scissors would let him. When he'd gotten through the last of it he let the blonde, damaged ends fall to the floor. Her hair sprang up at all angles from her head, revealing her entire neck, curling out at chin-length. The dark roots at the top now took up quite a substantial amount of her hair.

She turned to him with wide eyes, looking down first at the long, yellow hair at his feet. Her hands jumped to her hair, tugging at the ends, then brushing it up, letting it fall when she reached the ends. She stood quickly and pushed past him, standing on her toes to get a good look in the mirror over the basin.

She didn't say anything for a long time, just looking at herself, touching her hair, pushing it this way and that. The front sat up from her forehead, a cow lick right in the middle of her face. He saw tears in the corner of her eyes, and at once he felt his stomach sink. He knew this would happen. Now she'd be miserable until it grew back, and that would take years.

"Rapunzel…"

"I love it," she gasped, turning to him with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "I love it so much Flynn, thank you!" she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him quickly, too quickly for him to react, though he wouldn't have known how at any rate. Hugs weren't something he was accustomed to.

"You're welcome."


	7. Chapter 7

**I will have another chapter posted sometime in the next forty-eight hours.**

**Thank you for all of the reviews I've been receiving! I really appreciate it.**

* * *

Flynn woke with a stiff neck, unable to feel his right arm. He panicked for a second and sat upright, disorientated about where he was. He might have just woken from the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time. His arm had been under his pillow, suffering from the weight of his head, completely numb. He held it close to him and rubbed his shoulder, trying to at least get a little bit of feeling back into it as he looked from the couch toward his bed.

Her bare feet were sticking out the end of his blankets, her short, frazzled hair splayed over his other pillow. He couldn't see her face; she was turned away from him, but he saw the blanket rise and fall slowly with her breathing, and as he watched her toes twitched with her dreams.

This was something new, as well. He'd never had a girl stay before, whether he'd slept beside them or not. There was never a part of him that had wanted a girlfriend before, let alone any kind of relationship with someone. Maybe that was because he was way too fucked up after losing his parents and the condition that had happened in, but it had never bothered him before. The same nerves he felt last night crept back into his stomach as he pondered on what to do for her this morning.

He knew she wouldn't be expecting breakfast. He was sure this was her first sleepover with the opposite sex, as well. He decided he might as well shower, get that over and done with so that was one thing less on his list of things to do.

He pushed himself off the couch quietly, throwing the light blanket he'd slept under back onto the cushions. The balcony doors were still open, and the summer air was hot and dry. He closed them as quietly as he could, blocking out the sounds of the traffic on the road and the chatter of the people as they enjoyed their Saturday mornings eating breakfast and walking their dogs.

She hadn't stirred from the little noise he made, and he walked to the bathroom quickly, locking the door behind him and running the water before undressing.

He was quick. He washed his hair and brushed his teeth, shaving around his goatee with expert precision. He towel-dried his hair and let it fall naturally. It sat perfectly without having to do anything with it, so he let it dry in the heat of the day. He wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the door as quietly as he could, full intentions of tip-toeing to the small dresser beside his bed to get out a shirt and a pair of pants to wear for the day. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, swaying from side-to-side, her head tilted and her fingers laced behind her back as she looked up, into his bookshelf.

She'd borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in, and though it swallowed her whole, it was the least amount of clothing he'd ever seen on her. He'd been unable to decipher her figure on the baggy dresses and cardigans she'd worn each time he'd seen her before, and he always assumed she was skinny and child-like to match her innocence and ignorance. But her calves were curvy and her thighs thick, her hips wide, hugging the bottom-half of his shirt tightly. He saw her in a different light for the first time since their initial meeting, and shook the thought from his head as quickly as he could. _Don't ruin what you've got here. You can have _that_ with any other girl._

And then the fact that she was prying into things that were way too personal for him to speak about scared him into opening his mouth. "Find something interesting?"

"Oh!" she turned on her spot, her arms flying to her chest. "Sorry, I –" he watched her eyes fall from his face to his chest, and his nerves were gone. This part he could deal with. He knew he was in pristine condition physically, and he was used to girls looking at him this way.

And for once, Blondie was exactly like all the other girls. Her eyes ate him up. She chewed on her bottom lip, walking toward him slowly.

"You see something you like, Blondie?" apparently Flynn had come back with full-force after a good night's sleep.

"Yeah…" she said honestly, breaking away from the cookie-cutter girls he knew yet again. No coy remark, no sarcastic joke to make him want her more. Just unmasked honesty. "You look…different,"

Different wasn't something he usually went with, but he could accept that from someone like her.

She walked right up to him, reaching out and placing her fingertips on his bare chest. He tried not to flinch away from her - this wasn't what he was used to, and he could feel her chipping away at his wall again. "They're hard."

"You haven't seen a shirtless man before," he guessed. If she had no idea about popcorn, this couldn't really surprise him.

She looked up at him, and there was nothing sexual in her eyes as she watched him evenly. "Yes I have; my next door neighbour. But he didn't look like you."

"He's not blessed."

"Why haven't you – why don't you need to wear a shirt?"

"I wear shirts."

"But – _girls_ – they _need_ to wear shirts! And you, and my neighbour –"

"We're not lucky like you." He _really_ tried not to look at her chest, but he was a male, and he glanced away as quickly as he could. Her bra was left in a neat pile at the side of his bed with her dress, so it was just the loose fabric hiding her from him. "We don't get boobs."

"Is having boobs a good thing?"

"Yeah, boobs are great. I love boobs,"

She grinned and made a short, impressed, hum kind of a sound, grabbing her own with the innocence of a child. "I like them, too."

He crossed to the kitchen, shaking his head a little, and opened the fridge. The best he could do for her was cereal. "You should look at getting some new dresses, Blondie. Those ones you've been wearing do nothing for your figure."

"What would they do for my figure? They're meant to cover it up." She followed him, her hands back at her sides now, and watched as he poured a bowl of cereal, throwing in a spoon and pushing it across the counter, toward her. She thanked him quietly and bent at the hips, resting one elbow on the counter and using the other arm to eat. He was glad he was on the opposite side of the bench and not standing behind her.

He cleared his throat with more force than he'd intended and put the milk back in the fridge. "Well, yeah, they're meant to cover you, but you could wear something more form-fitting. I didn't know you looked like that under your clothes."

"Do you like how I look?" again, something that was usually said suggestively, but she looked genuinely curious for his honest opinion.

"Yeah," he could tell the truth with her. He wasn't trying to impress anyone. "I do. You've got to show off your assets."

"My boobs."

"They're a part of it," he chucked.

"You always look nice in your clothes." She complimented him.

Speaking of. He crossed to his dresser and dug through the drawers, pulling out a simple grey t-shirt and a pair of brown pants. He pulled the shirt on and did his best to dress in his underwear and pants under his towel. He could have gone to the bathroom, but there was something about her flirting, completely unaware, that had him loving his morning.

He hung the towel over the back of one of the chairs at the small dining table. "Flynn," she called from the counter. When he looked up she was standing straight, facing him, the bowl in her hands. "There's books in your shelves with your name on them."

"Yeah,"

"Did someone write the books about you?"

"No," he glanced at the bookcase, feeling a little awkward that she'd caught him out on something he wasn't ready to tell her. "No, they were written a long time ago. Before I was born."

"Are _you_ Flynnigan Rider, or just Flynn?"

"Flynn," he said simply. And just the simple word, Flynn, sounded like a lie, even in his own ears this morning.

"It's a nice name," she murmured.

"But how about _Rapunzel_, huh? Where did that one come from?" he folded the blanket he'd left on the couch and sat it neatly on the end of the cushions.

"I don't actually know…" she said slowly. "I think I might have had a different name once, but…no backstories."

"Right."

He'd never had a girl use his shower before, except for those occasions where he was in there with them, but it was a morning of firsts. He apologised for only having one towel, but she didn't seem to mind and disappeared into the room, locking the door behind her. She didn't say anything about the discarded hair on the floor.

He tried not to feel awkward when she was dressed in her outfit from the day before, her hair wet and springing up around her face. He didn't know what to do with girls in the morning. She wasn't annoying him like they usually did when they tried to hang around. He knew if he asked her to leave she would, but he was comfortable in her company and he wasn't ready to say goodbye to her yet. He worried that once she was gone he was going to fall back into his lost state and not know what to do with himself again, and he wasn't sure he could deal with that right now.

"What would you like to do today?"

"Do you want to do something with me?"

"That _is_ why I'm asking."

"I don't know…" she looked toward the window longingly. "I want to be outside."

"Surprise, surprise," he chuckled.

She pursed her lips as she looked at him. "I have some extra money from the cake shop. Maybe I should spend it on dresses for my figure?"

He tried not to laugh at her. She didn't know the ignorance she spoke with, but it was endearing. He wasn't social enough to know the crowds that would be out at this time on a Saturday. The people he usually associated himself with would still be in bed with hangovers right now. And here he was, bright and alive and ready to go out.

"That sounds like a good idea, I've been meaning to pick up some groceries anyway."

They wandered the square for a couple of hours. Rapunzel stopped and asked every person walking their dog if she could say hello, and Flynn waited for her while she bent, giving head scratches and telling them they were beautiful. When the more enthusiastic of them licked her face, she didn't flinch away, but leaned into it, offering them her cheek and laughing happily.

She chose three dresses from the first clothing store they visited. All were a similar style, but with different floral prints. They had thin straps and tight bodices, flaring out at the skirts and falling to her knees. She asked the sales assistant if she could wear one out of the store, and the woman assisted her in cutting off the tag on the back and scanning it separately.

Flynn complimented her choices, looking for a moment too long at her chest where the fabric held it tightly and pushed the modest amount of fatty flesh out of the top of the sweetheart neckline. She almost blushed, but thanked him quietly and swung the paper bag containing her old dress and her two other new purchases.

They got banana bread and coffee – peppermint tea, for Rapunzel – from a small café across from her favourite mural. They sat at one of the tiny tables outside. The people at the table next to them had a golden retriever, and Rapunzel spent half of their time there trying to bribe it silently to come closer with a piece of buttered crust under the table.

Flynn was dazed out, thinking about where he was, his eyes glazed over on the murals across the way.

"Who are they?" her words broke him out of his thoughts.

It took him a moment to adjust his eyes and take note of what he was actually looking at. "The last royal family," he told her. "We stopped with our kings after them and went to the government we have today."

"Why did we stop?"

"They lost their daughter. They had no heir, and the stories say they grew tired and no longer wanted to rule. They let Corona fall into a dark age, and the people thought it was time to change things, so it happened. They didn't fight it. It think they died earlier than they should have. They were too caught up in the grief. They were bad rulers."

"When did that happen?"

"Hundreds of years ago," he turned to her and she sank in her seat, her shoulders falling forward with disappointment.

"Oh,"

"It's not so bad," Flynn attempted to make her feel better. "You know your birthday? Corona Day? Letting the lanterns go is tradition from their time. The Lost Princess had your birthday, and they thought the lanterns would bring her home. It's nice, in a sad way."

"Did they ever find out where the princess went?"

"Nah," he finished the last of his banana bread and picked up his coffee cup. "She was probably just kidnapped and murdered, to get rid of the royal line. Whoever did it succeeded with their job, at the very least."

Rapunzel's eyes grew wide and she stared at the table in fear. "People shouldn't steal children that aren't theirs. That's not fair."

"No, I guess it isn't." Flynn saw something else on her lips, wanting to come out, but he didn't push her.

Rapunzel was the one to end their day, which was something he never would have believed even a couple of days ago. She asked him what time it was, and when he told her it was just past midday she froze.

"I have to go home."

"Oh – did you want me to walk you back?"

"No!" she said quickly. "Cass will be waiting for me. If she sees you with me she might be angry." She wrapped both of her hands around the bag handles, as if she suddenly didn't know what to do. "Thank you for letting me stay last night, Flynn. Sorry I got so tired so quickly."

"Not a problem," he said honestly.

"And thank you for cutting my hair, I really do love it."

He smiled as best he could. "I'm glad."

She nodded, and went to turn away. She called over her shoulder as she walked, "Don't get sad again, you've been good all morning!"

* * *

Cass was standing behind the desk, sorting through the shelves when Rapunzel finally walked through the door, twenty-five minutes later than their planned meeting time.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Time got away from me. I went shopping."

"Look at you!" Cass looked impressed and offered her a proper smile. "I love the haircut! Did you do that yourself?" she eyed her outfit, not waiting for a reply. "No shoes, but still…you look good, Raps. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Rapunzel grinned. "They had a three-for-one deal on the dresses, so I have more things to hang up in my wardrobe."

"Where did you find those?"

"Umm….I can't remember the name, but it was in the square, next to the murals. The lady was really nice, she helped me find my size and everything."

"Wow," Cass nodded, smiling more than Rapunzel had ever seen her. "This is a big step. That's a long way to go for you on your own."

Rapunzel didn't correct her. She didn't need to know.

"Okay, you ready? We're going to get you sorted with a phone, and then Max wants to ask you a few questions at the station."

"Max?" Rapunzel's ears perked up. The investigator who had helped her leave her house initially was now on the hunt for her real parents, if they were out there at all. "Have you heard anything?"

_"I_ haven't, but it's not something I should hear about, is it? This is your business."

"Maybe that's what he wants to see me about."

"Maybe," Cassandra agreed, distracted as she dug through a stack of papers inside the desk. "Did you want to run upstairs and dump your things? I'll wait down here for you."

Rapunzel agreed and pressed the button on the elevator, playing with the short ends of her hair distractedly. It was only when the elevator doors closed behind her that she lowered her nose to her shoulder and sniffed herself. She smelled like Flynn, and she didn't know if Cass would pick up on that. Did all men smell the same? Did Cass even know what Rapunzel normally smelled like? Cass typically smelled like a sweet shampoo, but there was something about the way Eugene smelled that was less chemical, more human. It satisfied Rapunzel's nose the way a whole block of chocolate satisfied her taste buds. She'd read in her new anatomy book that pheromones were smells that attracted people of the opposite sex to each other, and Rapunzel wondered if that was what was happening here, or whether Flynn was just a good smelling guy in general, and everyone thought that way about him. She wondered if he'd noticed her smell before. Maybe she didn't have a smell. She supposed she would never be able to tell, always being with herself.

She took a moment to look at herself in the little mirror in her bathroom, grinning at her haircut, running her fingers through it messily, before she ran out the door, pulling it closed too-loudly behind her, and flying to the stairs. She was too excited after her morning to stand patiently in the elevator.


	8. Chapter 8

Flynn hadn't been out in over a week. Suddenly it wasn't as exciting as it used to be for him, and he seemed to be sleeping a bit better most of the time. He preferred to stay at work later and then head home, unwinding before sleep. Maybe his upcoming trial was scaring him into keeping a low profile. Maybe he was just growing up.

Or maybe it had something to do with Blondie. She would meet him in the entry foyer while he started mopping and follow him up the next two levels, chatting to him about what she'd read or who she'd met at the cake shop where she was working. She'd brought him a passionfruit slice the night before last.

Usually he would take her out for one quick drink at the Snuggly Ducking. Just the pink bubbles without the alcohol, though. He was beginning to feel like a bad influence. She liked to see her friends, and the men there loved her visits, funnily enough. None of them really spoke to Flynn, but that was okay. Blondie kept him company when he'd been by himself for too long.

Tonight he didn't have his service. It was the book shop's late night to be open, and he was waiting for a single straggler to leave the store before turning the main lights off and hanging the closed sign. A small part of him that he wouldn't acknowledge felt a little disappointed that he wouldn't have his new little friend to keep him entertained before heading home. He wasn't ready to admit to himself that he was relying on someone to keep his negative thoughts away. Especially someone who was so clueless and naïve.

He heard Frank walking himself down the stairs out the back and looked over his shoulder to greet him as he entered the store.

"Eugene," Frank nodded to the sole customer left in the store, still looking at their small collection of cookbooks, and leaned his wrinkled arms on the desk beside the younger man. "Got any plans tonight?"

"No, I don't actually." Flynn said honestly.

Frank genuinely looked surprised at his lack of excuses. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, Joan's cooked enough to feed a family of ten. Just pasta, nothing fancy. But she'd love it if you came up for a visit. She hasn't seen you for a long time."

Flynn hesitated. There was always something awkward about being in their house. Too many memories for him, and the elderly couple loved to tell him stories about his mother when she was growing up. He was never mentally prepared for visits with them, but he knew he owed them one. They'd been good to him.

"You know what?" he sighed. "I'd love to. I'll finish up the paperwork and bring the takings for the day up as soon as we're closed."

Frank gave him a smile that almost broke his heart. "Good man," he shook his shoulder comfortingly. "I'll let her know you're coming up. Let yourself in."

Flynn didn't say anything else, listening for the door to close behind him and the sound of his shoes on the stairs until the noise faded.

He took his time with the paperwork when the woman had bought her single book and left. Nerves were setting in, and he told himself he was being stupid. Breaking the law had become somewhat second nature to him, but God forbid he visit a couple in their seventies for some food.

Much too late, he wrapped a rubber band around the small pile of bills and receipts in his hands and made his way upstairs. Their door was unlocked, as always. He knocked twice and turned the handle, announcing himself as he stepped inside.

Frank had already poured him a glass of ginger beer, his favourite drink from when he was a child, and greeted him in their living room. Just looking down at the glass in his hand made Flynn flinch, and he kicked himself. He was a grown man, for goodness sake. There were some things he just had to get over.

"Eugene?" Joan's soft mop of dark hair rounded the archway into the kitchen and she stopped and smiled, looking close to tears. "You get more and more handsome every time I see you."

"And you more beautiful," he grinned, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. "What are you cooking, good looking? Smells delicious,"

She chuckled and gripped his arm tightly. "Look how tall you are! I always forget. I still think of you as a toddler, you know. You need to visit more."

"Yeah," he sighed awkwardly. "I know I do. I've had a bit on my mind."

He didn't miss how Joan and Frank's smiles faded. His missteps with the law weren't something they'd spoken about in person, but he was well aware it bothered them. They thought of him as family, but they knew he was much too stubborn to ever listen to anything they had to say on the matter, so they'd never tried.

"Did you want to set the table, Frank? Let Eugene sit down and relax, he's worked all day."

Flynn took the job out of Frank's hands, telling him to sit down firmly. Sitting behind a desk at a bookstore all day wasn't enough to exhaust him. The two men sat at the table while Joan finished up in the kitchen. Flynn found he couldn't bring himself to look directly into Frank's eyes for too long, but the old man didn't say anything. There was always the small worry of disappointing these people somewhere in the back of his mind. They'd lost contact for a long time while Flynn was growing up, and while he knew they considered him family, their relationship could have been stressed if they let it. If they'd been anything like Flynn, they never would have seen each other again. But they made a point of seeking him out and offering him help with anything he needed, which was why he'd now taken over their work for the most part.

"Good day in the shop?" Frank asked once dinner had been served.

"Not too bad," Flynn swallowed his pasta before continuing. "I feel like a book shop's never going to be booming with customers, but I kept myself busy."

"Yeah, the old book stores seem to be dying out, I'm afraid," Frank paused and put his hand to Joan's, who had squeezed her eyes shut.

"You okay, Joan?" Flynn asked quietly, a little concerned.

"Just headaches, stupid things," she finally relaxed and gave him a small smile. "We're getting older, Eugene," she chuckled.

"Mm, tell me about it," he lightened the conversation. "I thought I'd found a grey beard hair the other day,"

Joan laughed loudly and leaned toward him. "How old are you now? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-six,"

"Twenty-six," she repeated in awe. "Your mother was younger when she married your father! You don't have a girl you're hiding from us, do you?"

He couldn't help his eyes slipping to his plate in front of him at the mention of his parents. "No, no girl," he said honestly.

"He's got years ahead of him to settle down." Frank said quietly. "If his mother had waited a few more years, she would have been better off at any rate."

Suddenly Flynn remembered why he avoided these interactions. The table fell into a very uncomfortable silence, and he just about lost his appetite. Joan scolded her husband for saying such a horrible thing, but they all knew he was right. Being with these people brought back a hundred horrible memories that had tortured Flynn since he was too young to have to deal with them. No wonder he'd turned to a life of crime.

He was quiet for the rest of their meal. He tried to snap himself out of feeling sorry for himself and tune in on their conversations, but he couldn't manage more than one-word answers at their questions and half-hearted laughs at their jokes.

Nothing more was said about his family.

Joan didn't ask him if he wanted dessert. He excused himself as early as was polite to and let them walk him to the door. The hug he gave her was honest, and he held her for a long moment while she reached up and patted his back.

"Call in any time, Love. We're always here for you."

"Thanks, Joan. Thanks for dinner."

He gave Frank a firm handshake, unable to make eye contact.

He felt empty as he walked down the stairs, back into the bookshop. The store was dark and he made his way to the door immediately, feeling claustrophobic for the first time in a long time. The air outside was dry and warm, and he sucked in a huge breath, feeling his hands shake, feeling his knees weaken under him.

He was _not _going to have an anxiety attack. He'd said no to them as a teenager, and he was going to do everything he could to say no to them now.

But the panicked thoughts in his head started repeating themselves louder and louder, and before he could think he was walking, further away from his house, toward the less expensive side of town.

He wasn't good enough for anything. He was going to go to jail. He didn't know how long he'd be locked up for, but he was sure when he got out there'd be nothing waiting for him yet again, and he'd turn to drugs and stealing, and doing everything wrong _yet again,_ and tear through women he wouldn't remember, and tear through his money quicker, and get arrested _again_, and he'd just be stuck in this vicious cycle forever. Maybe he was just like his father. Maybe he had no future. Maybe he should stay away from everyone and everything until he withered and died, a lonely old man with nothing to show for his life.

He lifted his arm and knocked urgently on door 14, pacing impatiently on the other side. He didn't hear footsteps to the door, but it opened quickly and a pair of giant green eyes peeped out cautiously.

"Flynn," she opened the door wider and looked at him with concern. "What happened?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she breathed nervously, stepping back, letting him cross into her home for the second time.

It was different to how he'd seen it last time. Giant sheets of sketchbook paper lined the walls, vines and flowers and animals in every colour drawn over them continuously, brightening the dull room up, giving the shabby home life. A hand-crocheted blanket had been thrown over the donated couch in the centre of the room. Sparkly fabric placemats were sitting on the counter, as if she'd been expecting company. A small tray of Atilla's cupcakes were on top of her little stove, the frosting hardening in the air.

"What's wrong?"

"Who said there's anything wrong?" he forced a smile, but it felt terrible, and he dropped it immediately and turned away from her.

She was quiet for a few seconds. "You look like you're about to cry."

"I don't cry," he told her. "And what would I have to cry about? My life's perfect. Have you _seen _me?"

"I have," she murmured. "I thought you weren't working here tonight."

"I wasn't. I just thought I'd come for a visit. See how my old pal Blondie's going."

"I'm okay," she said unsurely. "Are you hungry? I made a stir fry…I thought Cass was coming this afternoon, but she never showed up, so I have heaps."

"No, I'm not hungry." He finally turned to look at her. She was in a pair of shorts and a big shirt, ready for bed. Her feet were bare, as usual. She'd painted her toenails light purple, and Flynn wondered when she'd started caring about that stuff.

"Sorry. Were you going to bed?"

"No. I usually don't sleep very well." She looked away from him for a moment.

"Well, that makes two of us." He dropped onto the couch and clasped his hands together, leaning over his knees. He felt her fall heavily onto the cushion beside him.

"Flynn," she said quietly. He didn't respond, but she continued anyway, "I know we said no backstories, and maybe knowing some things would help me understand what's going on a bit, but you can be honest with me about how you're feeling."

Flynn sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his face roughly. He pushed against his eyelids, forcing himself to stop being stupid. "I don't know how to talk about things."

He was startled when a small hand went to his knee, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I don't want to assume anything. Because people assume things about me sometimes and it feels awful. But I'm here for you if you ever feel like you need to talk about things. Talking helps me feel better."

He lowered his hands and turned to her, chewing on the inside of his lip for a long time before opening his mouth. "I just needed to see you. I needed to be distracted. You're the only person who doesn't have a clue about me, and I need that."

She nodded. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like I could just disappear and it wouldn't affect anyone, and maybe feeling nothing would feel better than being by myself and not knowing what I'm doing, or what's going to happen. And then when I'm with you, I'm just thinking about what we're doing. I think I'm using you as a distraction, too."

"Is that awful?" he asked her quietly.

She pursed her lips, and he couldn't help himself from looking down at them. His eyes snapped back to hers as she answered. "No, I don't think so. I think we kind of need each other."

"I've never needed anyone before."

"Maybe you can't deal with things on your own anymore, Flynn. That's okay. I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't hit you with my frying pan that night."

He chuckled, and they leaned away from each other. "Ah, Blondie. What's the matter with us?"

"Well, I know there's something wrong with me, for sure," she said awkwardly. "I think you're just going through a rough patch."

If only she knew.

He stood from the lounge and looked at her expectantly. She followed, standing up slowly.

"I need a cigarette. Let's go for a walk."

"Okay," she said unsurely. "Should I get dressed?"

"Only if you want to,"

She shook her head. "I don't."

They headed out of her building, Rapunzel dressed in her little pyjamas. He noticed as she skipped ahead of him that he could see little creases at the top of her thighs where her shorts rode up. He was past caring if she caught him staring at her ass.

They went to a small corner store that was open twenty-four hours. Flynn bought a lighter and a packet of cigarettes that would probably last him the rest of the month, and Rapunzel timidly added two chocolate bars, handing him a coin to pay for them. She slid one into his pocket as they left the store, and they sat down on the first bench they came to.

Flynn lit a cigarette and leaned back on the bench, blowing the smoke out of his lungs, watching it hover in front of his face before it got picked up by the light breeze and drifted out of sight. He was very aware of Rapunzel leaning toward him, her chocolate bar hanging out of her mouth as she watched him closely.

"What?"

"Can you teach me?"

"You don't want to learn how to smoke."

"Yes, I do!" she told him excitedly. "It's on my bucket list!"

"It's not," he frowned at her, hoping she was kidding.

She nodded. "It really is, I'll show you sometime!"

He sighed and passed his cigarette to her. She grabbed it uncertainly, and he took her hand and positioned it between her index and middle finger, taking longer than he needed to. Her skin was so soft. Looking at it up close, he was startled at how unmarked and perfect it was, as if she'd never had more than a gentle scratch. As if the world had never touched her.

"I don't want yours!"

"You won't be able to have a whole one to yourself, trust me. Pull the smoke into your mouth and then breathe it down, into your lungs."

She did as he instructed, scrunching up her face and shaking her head. She huffed it all out in one go hurriedly, coughing a couple of times. "Ouch,"

"Thought so," he took it off her, unable to keep from smirking.

"Why do you do that?" her hand went to her chest and she took a bite of her chocolate. "It hurts. And it tastes bad."

"They don't all taste this bad. You need to get used to the whole thing."

"I've heard it can kill you," she said solemnly.

He chuckled and nodded. "Just one of those things on that big bad list of things that can kill you."

"What else can kill you?"

"Mouth wash, apparently. Junk food. The sun."

"The sun?!" she leaned back in her seat, frowning to herself. "But we _need_ the sun."

Flynn nodded, blowing out another breath of smoke and nudging her bare toes with his shoe. "Everything can kill you."

"People can kill you."

"Yep,"

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

He looked at her. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, as she waited for him to answer. "What, exactly, has your little friend _Cassandra _said about me?"

"I'm just asking."

"No," he chuckled. "I haven't killed anyone. Why, have you?"

He'd meant it as a joke, but her eyes glazed over quickly and she looked away, toward the dark store in front of them, and didn't say anything. Her hands found each other in her lap, and she twisted her fingers anxiously, her toes turning inward and sliding under the bench, out of sight.

He could have said a hundred things here. If it was anyone else he knew, he would have. But it was Rapunzel, and he knew any reaction that was even slightly wrong would terrify her and it would take forever to win her back over.

"No backstories," he said quietly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for the reviews, and the follows, and the favourites! It makes me so happy to know people are enjoying this story!**

* * *

She met him in the entry foyer, as usual. But there was an excitement in the air, and she grinned and twirled on her spot as he mopped, pretending not to see her.

"Flynn!" she sang. "Guess what!"

"What's that, Blondie?"

"It's your last day!" she said excitedly, grabbing his arm and shaking it gently. She'd been touching him more and more lately. He'd noticed how nervous and aware of herself she was to begin with, but now it seemed like second nature to her.

"Wha –" he leaned against the mop handle and put a hand to his hip. "Well, would you look at that! It is too!" he said sarcastically. "You know, we really should do something to celebrate!"

She giggled and clapped her hands together. She was wearing one of her old dresses – too big and baggy on her. He missed her curves. She looked so small and child-like in those giant clothes. Suddenly, she gasped, and he looked up in panic. But her hands were over her mouth, and her eyes were bright, and he went back to mopping as she spoke her wonderful idea.

"We should go out for ice cream when you're finished! And we should eat it at the murals again! And _then_ we should go to the markets in the square tomorrow! Did you know, they have them on the first Sunday of every month?"

"I was aware, yes,"

"What do you think?"

He stopped mopping again to look at her. Markets weren't really his thing. But then again, neither were late night walks along the murals, eating ice cream. Or spending time with a girl more than once. Or spending time with a girl while all their clothes were on, for that matter. What had happened to him?

She looked so excited. She was grinning widely, and he hadn't seen that smile the last couple of times they'd been together. As she watched him, the light in her eyes dimmed, expecting him to reject her, which just solidified his answer even more.

"Sure Blondie, we can do that if you want."

She breathed out a sigh she'd been holding in and followed him around as he mopped, asking questions about the kind of things you find at the markets, and how much money she should bring. She'd told him of a stash of cash in her sock drawer upstairs. He'd warned her not to tell anyone where she hid her money; you never knew if you were telling the wrong person, but she laughed and said she knew _he'd_ never take anything from her. That had made him feel slightly ill.

She followed him down the first floor hall, watching as he collected garbage bags, and then unlocked her door, sliding half-way inside. "I'm going to pack a bag and stay at your house tonight!"

Something that _definitely wasn't_ nerves tremored in his lower stomach, and he watched her disappear, closing the door behind her. "Come get me when you're done!" she called over her shoulder as she went.

So, Flynn finished his job at the building for the last time, put his cleaning supplies away, and went back upstairs to knock on no. 14. She must have been waiting behind the door, because she pulled it open immediately with a wide smile, a small backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm ready! Do you mind if I borrow one of your shirts to sleep in again? I brought extra underwear this time, but I feel like packing pyjamas will just waste space. I have my toothbrush. And can I borrow your towel again, or should I bring my own?"

"You'll be fine," he swallowed. Seriously. What was wrong with him? "Let's go,"

Tonight she tried cookies 'n' cream and vanilla biscuit, and Flynn got rum and raisin in a waffle cone. They sat in front of the murals, and Rapunzel asked him questions he didn't know the answers to. She took her backpack off her shoulders and opened it, pulling out a tiny notebook and handing it to him, open to a colourful page with a lot of scribble and floral sketches.

Her bucket list.

She pointed to one item in particular and tapped the page, not saying anything.

\- _Learn how to smoke a cigarette._

"Told you," she said, apparently very pleased with herself.

"You did," he agreed. His eyes slowly skimmed the rest of the items on her list. Quite a few of them were crossed out. _Make a friend, get a job, save $500 crowns… _He ignored those, focusing on the ones she still had to do. _Hug a camel, go to a circus, sing on a stage, kiss a boy –_

She quickly snatched the notebook out of his hands. "You were only allowed to read that one." She said, a little embarrassed.

Flynn cleared his throat and took a bite of his ice cream cone. "Camels, huh?"

"Camels are cool," she murmured, a little defensively, then perked back up. "Do you know that they have _three_ eye lids?"

Rapunzel was weird. Not in the way he originally picked up on, but weird in a way for girls. Sometimes she would say things or do things that could be considered super inappropriate, and apparently she wasn't bothered in the slightest, and other times something minuscule would happen and she would blush and go quiet and timid for longer than was normal.

She'd invited herself to sleep at his house, and now she bounced at the door eagerly as he unlocked it, letting herself in ahead of him and running to his bed, depositing her bag on the end of it. She crossed to his dresser as if she owned the place, though this was only her second time here, and picked out a t-shirt for herself to wear, then went to the bathroom to change.

All of this happened within thirty seconds of walking in the door, so Flynn hovered in the entrance, wondering what to do with himself. She seemed to have everything covered.

She came out in his t-shirt, her short hair flicking wildly around her face, her eyes bright with excitement. He poured her a glass of juice without asking and handed it to her. She thanked him quietly.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked her, not really knowing what else he could offer.

She agreed and sat on the couch, watching him sort through a modest collection of DVDs.

"What do you like to watch?" he asked, not looking up from under the entertainment unit.

"I don't know," she called from the couch.

"Well, what's your favourite movie?"

"I don't know," she said again. He rolled his eyes and turned to her, requesting more information. She shrugged awkwardly. "I've watched a documentary about penguins, one about sea creatures, one about dessert animals…but I know all of the words, because I saw them all a hundred times, so I don't want to watch any of those."

He was starting to see where she got all her weird little facts from. "Okay, well, how about things that aren't documentaries?"

She hesitated. "I don't know,"

"Wait," he put down the movie he was currently holding and looked at her in disbelief. "Please don't tell me you've never actually watched a movie before."

She shook her head slowly.

"Oh my God," he groaned. "Seriously, this no backstory thing is getting harder and harder for me."

"Just don't think about it. It will be fine." She said softly.

He reached for an action-comedy that didn't have too deep of a story line for her and put it in the player, crossing to the couch and sitting next to her. She pulled the little throw blanket over both of their laps and tugged her feet up onto the couch in front of her, hugging her knees.

If her questions in day-to-day life were hard to deal with, it was nothing compared to her questions while they watched the movie. She wanted to know every little detail. Why did this person have that scar on his face? Who was this person before he was a spy? Why did this woman love that man, if he was secretly evil? Of _course_ she knew he was evil already, she could tell that from the first scene he was in! Couldn't Flynn?

By the end of the movie she was silent, leaning against the arm rest, her eyes half-closed as she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Okay, Blondie," he picked up the remote and switched off the television. "First movie, what'd you think?"

"It was good," she yawned widely. "But I wish they'd be more careful around those buildings with all the explosions. Someone could have gotten hurt."

"They usually plan those things. It's not all coincidentally captured like with those documentaries you love so much."

She giggled to herself, her eyes slipping closed for a second too long.

"Okay, Sleepypants, let's get you to bed." He stood and she followed slowly, dragging her feet to his bed and pausing before she hopped in. Flynn picked up his pillow and watched her as she fiddled with the edge of the blanket gently.

"Flynn, I was thinking…it's not fair that you have to sleep on the couch in your own home. You're way too tall for that."

She wasn't wrong. But he was too far gone being a gentleman for her, and he wasn't about to stop now. "Don't be silly, I'm not going to have you sleep on it. You're my guest."

"No," she fell onto his bed and crossed her legs, his t-shirt bunching and resting in places he told himself not to look. "Sleep here with me. Your bed is huge! I'm sure we won't bother each other."

He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't know what that was meant to be. He frowned, watching her, finally feeling like he was starting to catch on. He was getting awfully suspicious that she knew exactly what she was doing. She leaned in a way that showed off her legs, and he could see navy lace on her thigh from the underwear she'd commented on bringing earlier.

He would play her game, for tonight at least. "Okay," he said easily. "But don't you be getting in my space, Blondie. I need my beauty sleep."

For the first time ever, Flynn Rider felt self-conscious lying next to a girl in bed. And for no good reason, he reminded himself multiple times. Or maybe it was the fact that his body wasn't on show that was the reason for his nerves. That probably was the best part of him, after all. It was odd to not be hiding behind it.

He knew she wasn't asleep, either. He could see her eyelashes batting in the light from the window she was currently looking up at. Apparently turning all the lights off and lying next to him were enough reason to wake her back up.

They were about as far from each other as they could get in his bed. Neither of them had made any conversation past "goodnight" once they were lying down, and he wondered if he should say something to break the silence.

No. Maybe she thought he was asleep. Maybe he should close his eyes and act like he was.

"Flynn," her voice was quiet in the dark room.

"Yeah, Blondie?"

"You're my best friend."

The words hung around him in the dark, and he felt a small swell of pride envelope him, though he knew he wasn't in competition with too many people. But he'd beat Cass, and she was a girl, and he'd beat Big Nose from the Snuggly Duckling, who seemed to have some weird, poetry-based connection with Blondie that Flynn couldn't really understand.

He didn't have a response for her, and he hated himself for it, but there were some things he wasn't brave enough to say yet. So he let his mind carry him away in the dark, listening to her quiet breaths as she dreamed beside him, letting himself fall into his own as it came.

* * *

He woke in the morning feeling more rested than he had in a while. He was groggy, which wasn't something that happened often, and he stretched his legs under the blanket, rolling over to make himself more comfortable.

The pair of big green eyes staring back at him from his other pillow were a good enough wake-up call to have his heart racing to the point where sleep was out of his mind again.

"Shit! Blondie," he breathed slowly. "You scared me,"

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I was just seeing if you'd woken up."

He grinned and pressed his head into his pillow, watching her as she rolled toward him and did the same. "How did you sleep?"

"Really good," she grinned back at him. "I don't need to ask you – you snored most of the night,"

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "Sorry. I promise I don't usually do that."

She laughed loudly. Way too loudly for this early in their day. "How would you know?"

That was a good question. No one else had ever slept beside him before.

He watched her as she settled back into her pillow, smiling at him happily. He wondered if this was the first time he'd really, really looked at her. Her hair was sticking up in all directions from being slept on. Her roots had grown another centimetre or so since he'd cut it off for her, and he noticed for the first time how dark her eyebrows were. They made the rest of her hair look an even more shocking yellow than it already did when he focused on them. She had a freckle on the left side of her top lip, and she showed off her two front teeth, sitting lower than the rest of them, as she grinned over at him.

Her smile slowly slid from her mouth as she watched him back, her eyes flicking over his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth…

He felt himself leaning toward her slowly, his hand slid across the bed under the blanket and found her, resting on her side gently. His shirt had ridden up on her torso through the night and he could feel the soft skin over her hip as he tugged her toward him on the mattress. He could feel her quick breath on his face as his eyes slid closed, leaning in just that fraction more –"

"Flynn," her voice was a frightened whisper against his lips, and he felt her entire body go rigid beside him.

He swallowed and pulled away from her quickly, trying not to look disappointed, or embarrassed, afraid that would scare her away even more.

The fear in her eyes was obvious, and he leaned back on his pillow, wondering if she'd run without remembering her things.

She grinned at him widely after a few seconds and jumped up, grabbing her bag from beside the bed and skipping to the bathroom. "I'm having the first shower! And then we're going to the markets!"

He watched her disappear into the bathroom, wondering what on earth had just happened.


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter's a bit longer than usual. I hope you like it!**

* * *

Neither of them acknowledged the almost-kiss as they got ready to go out. Flynn made sure he was looking especially good in a blue-green t-shirt and his favourite brown pants.

Rapunzel came out of the bathroom wearing one of the dresses she'd bought with him. He hadn't seen this one on her. The fabric itself was light purple, decorated with darker florals, and her bust was so present in this one Flynn wondered if Cassandra had taken her shopping for new underwear. That would explain the dark lace he'd seen on her thigh last night, as well.

She left her bag at his place, telling him she'd come back up to get it after the market. She didn't want to have to carry it around with her all day. She threw her small, brown leather bag over her shoulder and waited for him to open the door, walking down the steps ahead of him.

The markets seemed to be everything Rapunzel loved rolled into one event. People in hats and sunglasses and sandals walked dogs through the stalls, eating market food on sticks and in bags. Rapunzel restrained herself from touching any of the dogs, because everyone looked in a hurry to be somewhere, but she smiled at the majority of them like they were old friends, earning a humoured look from most of their owners. She tried a pineapple and ginger ice cream and juice mixture, sucking it up through a thick straw while watching children draw on the concrete in the middle of the square. Eugene let her spend more than ten minutes at one small fruit stand, and she decided she was going to try at least three new fruits she'd never heard of before they left. She eventually narrowed her choices down to lychees, a paw paw and a custard apple. She decided the lychees were her favourite, and although the smooth, dark seeds inside of them were beautiful, Eugene convinced her she didn't need to put them in her bag to take them home. He tossed them in the first bin they walked past, along with the majority of the custard apple.

A small elderly woman who only reached Rapunzel's shoulder sold goat's cheese in the indoor section. She let Rapunzel sample every flavour, and at the end she purchased a small container of feta in chilli and lime oil. Flynn didn't want to try any, but she was convinced she'd be finding something to buy him as a present.

Flynn was happy to let her roam for the first hour or so of their market adventure, then he seemed to have a really good idea and started leading her away from the majority of the stalls. She was distracted halfway by a trio of three grey-haired men performing for the market customers. One played a huge double bass, another an old guitar, and the third sang into a plastic, megaphone-shaped contraption. They weren't amplified electronically in any way, but they were loud and clear and Rapunzel came to a sudden halt, right in the middle of the walkway, and grinned at them for the duration of their song, dancing in her spot to their music. At the end she clapped loudly, and the singer thanked her personally. Flynn wished to disappear.

He continued to drag her toward the petting zoo, having noticed a large sand-coloured hump. He thought she deserved to cross something else of her bucket list. She almost looked like she was going to burst with excitement when she realised there were camels there. She bounced on her toes, leaning toward them impatiently.

"Am I allowed to go and touch them?"

"I don't see why not," he leaned coolly on the fence, alongside the parents who were watching their children pet the miniature horses or terrorising the chickens. Rapunzel didn't seem to notice he was too much of an adult to join her, because she swung open the little gate and walked right up to the larger of the two camels, waiting until he'd lowered his face to eat some dropped pellets from the children's feeding bags. She wrapped her arms around his head tightly. She grinned so wide her eyes disappeared behind her cheeks and pushed her face into the camel's, holding him for as long as he'd put up with.

Flynn noticed he was smiling, like he was happy for her in the way the parents were for their children. Then he told himself he was being stupid. She wasn't his family, or his girlfriend. She was just a girl he was helping experience the world, because apparently she hadn't seen too much of it. He couldn't keep the small smile off his face though, especially when she dug her fingers into the fluff on an alpacas back and squealed with excitement, loud enough for him to hear from his safe place at the fence.

They'd spent a good two hours walking back and forth among the stalls before Rapunzel decided she'd seen everything. A couple of the food stalls were beginning to pack up at this time, and the crowd had cleared noticeably. She decided she wanted to stop for a cupcake on their walk back to his house, and he waited while she lined up and purchased two pink cupcakes, one for each of them. He held back a remark about her not needing to do that and thanked her quietly.

They sat on a wooden bench under a large tree and ate silently . He wasn't sure, but he felt like Rapunzel didn't want to make eye contact with him all of a sudden. He wondered if he'd done something else to freak her out. He'd had to stop himself a couple of times from just reaching out and taking her hand while they'd walked, knowing she'd probably run away, literally, from him again. The action seemed to come to him very naturally, though he'd never done that with anyone before, and he was feeling a little funny about the entire situation. She was not the kind of girl Flynn Rider found himself attracted to. So why was he so muddled with her?

"Can I ask you something?" she said quietly, still avoiding looking at him, as she licked pink frosting off her lip.

"Sure," he watched her fingers tremble a little, and felt nerves twist in his stomach in the anticipation of her question. Blondie was not one to ask for permission to speak, and not one to show anxiety in this way, so whatever she was about to ask him must have been bad.

"Remember this morning, before I had a shower?" she asked casually. He saw her swallow, and he felt himself do the same.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Were you going to kiss me?"

"Yeah," he breathed honestly. "I was."

"I thought so," she lowered her cupcake to the table and rubbed her hands on her thighs, finally looking up at him, her eyes looking very apologetic. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I don't actually know how to kiss anyone, and I didn't want you to be unhappy with me, so I just…I couldn't help myself."

"Hey," he chuckled easily. "It's okay. I kind of figured you were new to all that stuff. I shouldn't have done that to you, I'm sorry. I was still tired, and I got caught up in the moment –"

"So you wouldn't do it again?" her face fell a little bit. "Because you can try again, if you want to. You don't have to. I know you've kissed other girls before, and I'm a lot younger than you and I don't look as pretty as I could. But if you ever want to again, you can."

He tried his hardest not to talk over her nervous rambling. He finally told himself to get over it and grabbed her hand gently, holding it to the table. "Blondie, calm down. I know you're having a lot of new experiences at the moment, and you don't need to rush these things, but I won't spring that on you again. Not until you feel like you're ready."

She nodded, looking back at her cupcake. She picked it up silently and took a massive bite, filling her mouth, maybe so she wouldn't have to contribute anything else to their conversation.

"How's your cupcake?" Flynn asked in an attempt to change the subject. He wasn't used to talking about things like kissing. Usually he had a girl naked in his bed before he was even sure about what her name was.

"It's okay," she said through a mouthful of vanilla sponge. "Not as good as Attila's."

Their day out became normal again when they stood from their bench, as if their awkward conversation had never happened. Rapunzel thanked him around ten times on their short walk back to his home. When they got inside she fell onto his couch easily, staring off into space, looking out toward the balcony. He locked the front door behind him and crossed the room, opening the doors to the balcony to let the dry, fresh air inside.

"Did you want to watch another movie? Or were you going home soon?"

"Did you want me to go home?" she looked like she was ready to push herself off the couch. "I don't mean to intrude, if you want some time by yourself."

"Blondie," he said her nickname firmly. "Sit down, you're fine. I have nothing better to be doing, anyway."

"Okay," she watched him put a movie on, an old comedy classic, and her eyes followed him as he came to sit beside her on the lounge. "I like being here."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mm-hm," she smirked at her toes, kicking them off the floor in front of her. "You make me stop feeling sad."

He should have told her that she did the same for him as well, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The day Flynn Rider spoke of his feelings would be the day hell froze over.

"How is work going?"

"It's okay," she sighed quietly. "I just feel like the other girls think I'm stupid or something. They'll tell me to do something that I'm just about to get to, or explain something to me that I already know. I'm not stupid, I'm just getting used to things. And I can't talk to them very well, because they talk to me differently, like I'm a child or something. I'm even older than one of them in there, by two years! And they let her in on their conversations, and treat me like I wouldn't be able to keep up."

"Don't worry about them. They're not important. You can find another job when you're ready and make new friends."

"I don't know anywhere that would hire _me._ I'd probably just get the same treatment everywhere else."

"Why do you think that?"

She took a moment to answer. "As soon as people see my name, they know who I am. Even with all my hair gone, the name _Rapunzel_ doesn't go unnoticed."

He had the impression she wanted to say more, but their 'no backstories' rule hung over them both and stopped her from going on and him from asking.

"Do you like working in the book shop?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "It's probably better than anywhere else I'd find. I'm the same, people make their opinions of me before I've even walked through the door. It's not fair, but it's how humans work."

"I don't judge you," she told him quietly. "I know how good you are."

"Thanks, Blondie." He struggled as he remembered his initial thoughts of her – a crazy, immature girl who had no people skills. He could have kicked himself now. She'd obviously been through a lot, whatever that might have been, and she was strong enough to go and try to figure out the world despite all of that. "You're pretty great yourself."

"So how did you find the bookshop then?"

"Uhh," he leaned back in his seat as he thought over the words. "I knew the owners from a long time ago. They helped me out a while back, and when they knew I needed a job they pretty much forced me to take it. They're getting old and wanted to retire, so I do all of the physical work for them and they take care of whatever business stuff's left over."

"That's good of them." Rapunzel picked at a loose thread on the hem of her dress. "They're important to you."

"They are," he agreed, and surprisingly even to himself, he didn't try to hide that.

"That's how you are to me." Her fingers inched closer to his knee on the couch between them, but she hesitated and pulled it back to her dress. "Thank you for helping me, Flynn."

He should have thanked her too, because she'd helped him in this short time more than she could ever have known, but Flynn was strong, manning the wall, blocking Eugene out, and he accepted her words without reply, staring at the television as if it held his attention completely.

The sun was setting by the time Rapunzel excused herself. She had to start work early, and when Flynn offered for her to stay again, she declined. She would be getting up a long time before he would, and she'd have to go home to get dressed anyway.

He insisted on walking her home, seeing as it was getting dark. He also wanted to stay in her company for as long as possible.

"Are you at the bookshop tomorrow?" she asked when they came close to her home, and both fell into a long silence.

"Yeah, I am."

"Am I allowed to come and see you when I'm finished? I want to buy more books."

"Sure thing, Blondie. I'll be there all day."

"Okay! I'll come straight after work."

And she did. She showed up a couple of hours before he was due to finish, and started piling up books she wanted to buy from the second-hand section on the corner of his desk. He was puzzled again by her choices, but he didn't question her. She added a couple of autobiographies to her collection this time, and he wondered if she even knew who the people they were about were.

It was the first time he'd seen her in anything but her fun, colourful dresses before, and he didn't know whether he was more shocked by the sight of her in black skinny jeans or the flat black shoes on her feet. She didn't look like Blondie, but he wasn't complaining about the full view of her legs and hips he was getting today. He kicked himself mentally again. He barely looked twice at most girls in a pair of jeans like that, unless they were really able to fill them out properly. His innocent little Blondie could fill them out very well.

She'd insisted on hanging around til he was finished his shift, and he thought that was a good idea. She ended up purchasing eleven books in total, and he was going to have to help her carry them home. He sat her in the stool behind the front desk with one of their new releases – a weird, whimsical book about the circus which sounded like something she'd like, and she was silent as she read while he served the few customers who wandered in and out for the last part of his day.

When the closed sign had been hung and the lights out the front turned off, he showed her how to count the till and bundle the receipts. She sat on the counter beside him, swinging her legs and watching him with interest. He was very aware of how close she was, and that with her sitting this high, their faces were level. And for that reason he couldn't bring himself to lift his head to look at her. He didn't want to scare her again.

The panic set in when he heard Frank's footsteps coming down the staircase in the back room. Rapunzel heard it too, and looked worriedly at the door as if a burglar were about to burst in. Flynn thought this was ironic, and held himself back from making a joke at her expense. This was not the time to tell her who he really was.

Torn between telling her to hide and explaining later, and wanting to be kind and gentle to her, Flynn allowed the door between the back room and the main store open and Frank walked out as usual, hesitating when he saw the petite girl seated on his front desk beside Flynn.

"Frank," Flynn said, way too loudly, before Frank could greet him with a name that would be new to her and give Blondie more questions than she'd be able to deal with. "I was just finishing up. We had a pretty good day." He handed the old man his money and receipts with a little too much force, his eyes wide, pleading with Frank not to say anything that could give him away. Frank looked at him for a long time, searching his eyes, knowing to be careful, and looked down at the money in his hands.

Flynn _did_ feel a little bad, knowing he'd confused the old man. He lifted his hand to his shoulder and gave him a couple of comforting slaps. "Franks, this is my friend Rapunzel. She's part of the reason the takings were so good today. She almost bought-out the second-hand section."

"Oh," Frank lowered his hand holding the money and offered the other to Rapunzel to shake. She took it quickly, a huge grin on her face.

"It's nice to meet you! Flynn told me about how he's known you for a long time! It's so good he has someone like that."

Frank's face slowly slid into a wide smile of his own at Rapunzel's enthusiasm and he shook her hand for longer than was necessary. "Did he say that? He's a good kid." He threw Flynn a suggestive smile, which the young man looked away from quickly.

He managed to insist that he needed to walk Rapunzel home as quickly as possible. Frank seemed disappointed, and Flynn knew a dinner invitation would have been coming if he hadn't acted so quickly. And he couldn't imagine Blondie declining.

He locked the front door to the bookshop behind them, two bags of heavy books in his left hand. Rapunzel cradled the last couple that threatened to break through the bottom of the bags closely to her chest and grinned at him as he tucked his keys back into his pocket.

"Frank is lovely!"

"Yeah, he's a good guy."

"Why didn't you want him talking to me?"

He chuckled awkwardly. "What are you talking about, Blondie?"

"You were talking over him, and then you were in a super big rush to get out of there. Don't want him spilling all your secrets, huh, Flynn?"

Maybe he wasn't as inconspicuous as he thought. He laughed it off as best he could, walking a couple of steps ahead of her so she had to rush to keep up. "What about our 'no backstories' agreement? You trying to one-up me, Blondie?"

"No," she'd finally reached his side again and he saw her smiling at her books. "I wouldn't do that."

He helped her all the way to her room, sitting the books on the counter in her kitchen for her to sort out. She offered for him to stay for dinner, and he accepted automatically. She made a spicy soup, chopping capsicums and carrots and tossing it in a big pot with diced tomatoes and seasoning. He watched her cook, offering to help in any way, but knowing she'd decline. It only took her half an hour to have it ready and sitting in matching bowls on the little counter. She'd even grilled tortillas to scoop at it with.

Flynn's text tone chimed as they were eating, and he saw Rapunzel's eyes slide to the screen on the counter as his phone lit up. He followed, surprised to see Bec's name. She'd stopped texting him when he hadn't replied for a week or so, and he felt bad, but he'd finally agreed with himself that it wasn't fair to keep stringing her along. She was still what he considered to be one of his dearest friends, but he was wondering how to gain access back into her life when he'd been so absent.

"Bec's your hairdresser friend," Blondie's voice was a quiet murmur, and Flynn wondered whether he'd made up the defensive tone he could hear.

"Yeah," he said quietly, picking up the phone so it was out of her view and opening it to read his friend's message.

_Georgie wanted me to let you know that you're due for a haircut. Also, I met someone and I need your approval before I get in too deep. Hope you're good! Xo_

Huh. Flynn looked at the message for a moment too long, closing his phone and sitting it back on the counter in front of him as he thought over her words. He knew this game. Bec might have met someone since he'd last seen her, but what was the point of telling him if it was only a couple of weeks in? She wanted him to know, to worry about her being with someone else and leaving him behind. But even though they'd been so close physically not too long ago, Flynn didn't feel any kind of loss at her words, which he knew would drive her crazy. Best to answer honestly, if he was going to at all.

"Are you okay?" Blondie's voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see her chewing on a piece of tortilla, her eyes worried as she watched him.

"Yeah, great. Bec seems to be doing well. She said I'm due to get a haircut. Did you want me to take you in as well and fix up what I did to it?"

"I don't know…"

"Ah, you'll be fine, don't stress! Her sister's lovely, she'll take care of you. You don't need to be nervous around them."

"What if she makes me do something to it that I don't want to do?" her eyes grew impossibly wider, and she looked at him fearfully.

Flynn shrugged. "It's your hair. You tell her what you want, and she'll do it."

Rapunzel nodded, staring off into space for a while. "Okay. Let's do it."

Blondie was yawning widely by the time Flynn excused himself. They both had to work again the following day, so he wanted to get out of her hair before she got too tired.

He made plans with her to pick her up on the Thursday and take her for her hair appointment. He started late on Thursdays, because they were open into the night, and she wasn't working at all so she'd have plenty of time.

For the first time, there was an awkward air while they said their goodbyes. He stood in the hallway, not sure what to do with his hands, so he shoved them into his pockets, and Blondie held the door, leaning her cheek against it while she smiled at him silently.

Neither seemed to want to say goodbye first, and they would take turns to mention something they'd found out, or a random fact the other probably already knew. When Blondie thoughtfully looked down at the floor, a nervous smile on her face, Flynn cleared his throat and backed away from her.

"Okay, Blondie. I'll see you on Thursday."

He turned and started walking down the hallway, surprised but slightly relieved when he heard her call out after him.

"Flynn, wait!"

He turned, shocked when he saw her hurtling herself toward him. She grabbed him at the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her with more strength he ever thought she'd be capable of, their lips meeting messily as she stood up on her tip-toes and held him to her as tightly as she could.

It was clear she had no idea what she was doing. She puckered her lips like a little kid and pressed them against his own, and he smirked, nerves igniting throughout his body, his hands finding their way behind her back and pulling her toward him, as well. How many women had he kissed in his lifetime? He'd never be able to count, ever. And the excitement that he'd scoffed at from stories had never presented itself; that undeniable longing to lose oneself in another person, through just a kiss. But somehow, with this small girl who had no clue what she was doing, he felt it, and it shocked him and made his fingers tremble against her delicate frame, but he let it overtake him, lifting her further onto her toes so the majority of her weight was in his arms and she didn't need to worry about keeping her balance.

He felt her hesitate slightly as he leaned into her face and parted his lips, helping her figure it out. Her lips closed over the bottom of his and he sighed into her mouth, not believing she could learn these movements that quickly. She was still unsure and untidy in her actions, but she was driving him crazy, and he slowed them both and ended it gently, still bending to lean his forehead against hers for just a second longer. He felt her lower herself back from her toes, still gripping tightly to his shirt, as if her hands couldn't remember how to let go. His own hands slipped from her lower back to her round hips, holding her gently.

For a long moment, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to react. And he definitely didn't know how he was feeling. He would have rolled his eyes if he'd seen a guy holding onto a woman and taking a moment for himself after a kiss like that. And yet here he was, completely befuddled and seemingly besotted, and that terrified him.

Rapunzel's wide green eyes slowly peered up at his own, and they stared at each other, both with the same confused, emotional expressions. Flynn felt himself straighten up, but his fingers tightened on her hips, the fabric of her jeans letting him feel the plump flesh she's been blessed with, but hid way too often.

"Thanks," she breathed after a while.

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. Why was she thanking him for a kiss? Especially when she'd been the one to initiate it.

"I – I didn't really know what I was expecting from that. I knew, from reading, that there must have been something else to it than just the physical _kissing _part. I think I get it. How those feelings can lead to…you know."

Flynn nodded slowly, finally forcing himself to release her and letting them fall lamely to his sides. "No rush, though. There's a lot between your first kiss, and…_that_." Great. She had him talking like a toddler, as well. And when had he ever told a girl who was so obviously into him that she should wait to jump into bed with him? Blondie was rubbing off on him way more than he thought.

"Getting in your pants." Blondie offered, and she grinned widely.

He couldn't resist throwing his head back and barking out a laugh. "Yeah, getting in my pants."

She bit her lip, still smiling widely and took a step backwards, toward her room. "Want to catch up on Wednesday night? We can go to the Snuggly Ducking."

"Sure, Blondie. I'll meet you here."

"And maybe we can practice kissing some more."

"Sure thing, Blondie."

"Night, Flynn," she grabbed her door handle and half-slid inside, watching him turn and leave the hallway, calling a goodnight over his shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

He was now positive being in her new state of living had made Blondie aware of her body. If he was suspicious about her owning a new push-up bra before, he was positive about it now. The bodice of her new sundress strained against her chest in a way that made her modest shape all but spill over the top, and she seemed more than aware of this as she smiled at him coyly and leaned across the bar toward him, her left arm pressed against her chest in an attempt to make it even more dramatic.

Every time she caught his eyes wander, she would grin, and while he attempted to restrain himself, he was a man at the end of the day. He didn't have boobs; how was he supposed to ignore them when they were so plainly presented to him this way?

Whether Blondie had a secret book on how to seduce someone, or she'd asked her friend Cass for advice, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and she was putting it into action better than he could ever have expected. But like her kissing, he knew once she actually got to the physical act, she would falter and have no idea what she was doing, and he would have to guide her as she went.

They hadn't kissed again since their encounter in the hallway the other night. They were both a little awkward when he'd knocked on her door that night and walked her to the Snuggly Duckling. She'd packed a bag to stay at his house, which was now on the sticky pub floor under her feet. Last time a girl had been so obvious about what she wanted in front of him, she'd ended up in his bed within the hour. He worried that Blondie didn't know _quite_ what she was putting herself out there for. As she'd said herself the other night, reading about something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. And he knew he was probably going to be the one to teach her. He _hoped_ he could be the one to teach her.

Their words didn't come as easily to one another as they had been recently, and a couple of the thugs seemed to notice. Hookhand dropped his beer onto the bench even more forcefully than usual, and Big Nose ended up in a deep discussion with Blondie about knowing who was right for you and who was going to take advantage of you. Flynn watched Rapunzel nod along with what he was saying, drinking her pink bubbles from the straw in the corner of her mouth, but she looked as though she wasn't making the link he was hoping for.

When Shorty hit on her for the fourth time that night and Rapunzel almost slid off her chair from laughing too hard at something Tor had said at Shorty's expense, Flynn decided to call it a night.

They were silent again on the walk back to his house. He was aware Rapunzel was staring at him very obviously, but he didn't look back at her until he felt her slip her hand into his. This was something new to the both of them, and it took Flynn a moment to think whether he was okay with this. But there was something about how soft her skin was and how gently she was holding him that made him not want to let go. He closed his hand around hers with the same minute amount of pressure, as if they were just cradling each other, and they kept walking without saying anything. If someone had told him a month ago that this would be happening right now, he would have laughed in their face. Not in a million years would he have thought he'd be walking a girl back to his home who had been there multiple times before, _holding her hand_, for that matter. And yet, here he was. And he hardly recognised himself.

This had started with him needing a distraction, wanting to forget what he'd done and the court date that was looming, though he still hadn't received an actual _date _yet. And now, his thoughts were on this girl the majority of the time instead of what was coming for him; what he'd been so terrified of. It seemed so far away while he was standing here, next to her.

She started talking about beagles and their sense of smell as they reached his house and she was saying something about them smelling soup as she walked up the stairs. His thoughts were a little more erratic, as it was now just the two of them, completely alone, in his house.

He'd meant what he said about taking her time. But he was lying if he said that was entirely what he wanted to do. For her sake, he knew he needed to wait for her. But he wasn't used to waiting. And he wasn't used to feeling this way about something, which he knew was probably going to make this ten times as hard.

She insisted on showering as soon as the door was locked behind them, and she was in there for quite a while. She dressed in one of his t-shirts, as usual, and sat herself on the edge of his bed, telling him she was too tired to watch a movie when he asked. She bent her left leg and rested it on the side of his bed frame, watching him with what he thought was nerves present in her expression. The way she moved her leg showed the very top of her thigh, and, of course, more lace from her underwear. She was definitely doing this on purpose, but he was going to let her play her game and not comment.

"Are you going to sleep with me tonight?" she asked him innocently, shuffling over to her side – no, _the left-hand side_ – of his bed and watching him closely.

Her version of 'sleep with me' was not the usual meaning of the phrase.

"Am I allowed?"

"I would like you to."

He grabbed his sweat pants, wondering whether a t-shirt was necessary as well. No. That was stupid. She wasn't going to curl up and die if she slept next to him shirtless.

"Well, I'll just go change and brush my teeth then."

"Okay,"

The energy around them was weird, and something he'd never experienced before. He was very good at getting women into his bed. He was very good at distancing himself from them and not feeling anything past the physical side of their relationship. The fact that there was someone in his bed, apparently trying very hard to seduce him however she knew how, and to top it all off he was just finally admitting to himself she was someone he cared about? New territory. _Scary _new territory.

For the first time in a really long time, he looked at himself closely in the small mirror above the basin while he brushed his teeth. He didn't usually bother with worrying about his looks. He always looked terrific, so why waste time worrying? He was surprised when he saw new wrinkles he didn't know he had. A couple on his forehead, and in the creases of his eyes, maybe from squinting from the sun, maybe from laughing. He'd been doing more of that the last few weeks than he could ever remember doing before.

He would be thirty in a few years, so he couldn't be too surprised to see himself ageing. But something about that while Blondie sat, waiting for him in his bed, so youthful and childlike, seemed to contrast more heavily than he was willing to admit to himself.

When he left the bathroom, the lights had been turned off except for the small lamp on his bedside table he'd hardly ever used. Blondie was kneeling in her spot, people watching out the window to her left. He could hear the distant sounds of young adults drunkenly cheering each other on, and he wondered what she was thinking as she watched them.

"You ready for bed, sleepy?"

"Mm-hm," her attention came back to him, and she tugged on the ends of her short hair as she fell back onto her pillow. "Flynn, can I ask you something?"

He climbed into bed beside her, tucking his feet under the sheets and straightening his legs. "What's up?" He definitely was not nervous. Nerves were for inexperienced children.

"Do you mind if we practice kissing? Just for a minute?"

He could help but chuckle, leaning on his elbow to face her. She looked embarrassed, and before she could react he wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her closer to him as best he could.

"You think I need practice, Blondie?"

"No," she gasped. "I think I do."

"You should give yourself some credit." He closed the distance between them, catching her bottom lip between his and sucking on it gently.

_Shit, _she learned fast. She mimicked his movements from a few nights before, and he could feel her pushing herself, being braver than he thought she would have. He felt her remember to breathe after a little while, exhaling in a huff through her nostrils. He grinned against her mouth, letting her take the lead, following her actions. He realised he was gripping her hip under the sheet a little too tightly and relaxed his hand, moving it to her back to keep her pinned against him.

Her hands nervously reached out, finding his chest, faltering when she remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt, but he leaned into her touch to urge her on, his fingers and toes bursting with nerves and his mouth moving faster and more urgent against hers.

She released his top lip for a second and he took advantage, moving quickly to slip his tongue, just slightly, between her lips, brushing her own gently. He felt her gasp and she pulled away quickly, staring at him like he'd slapped her. He froze, an apology on the way, but she leaned back toward him in a second, bracing herself carefully before he felt her tongue repeat his action.

And that's where he grabbed her shoulder, way too tightly, and held her from continuing. Because if she kept doing that, there was no way he was going to be okay with just practicing kissing.

Flynn Rider had sampled many women. And not one of them had had this effect on him simply from _kissing._

"What did I do?"

"Nothing," he said, too quickly and too loudly. She didn't look convinced.

"I was just trying to –"

"Yep, nope, you've succeeded. Very good. You did great." He really _was _trying to be gentle with her. He just couldn't remember how exactly to do that. He moved his hips away from hers, still holding onto her shoulder.

"You can tell me if I did something wrong. You know I don't really know what I'm doing…"

"Blondie," he was forceful enough for her to make eye contact, and he held it as gently as he could. _"Trust me,"_ he said slowly. "You did everything right."

_"Oh,"_ realisation dawned on her, and he wondered just how much she'd read in that anatomy book of hers. "Oh," was she grinning? Seriously. "Okay,"

He laughed quietly as she moved back and leaned her head into her pillow, lying on her side so she could smile at him. "It's weird, isn't it? That kissing can do that to us."

Us. So it wasn't just him feeling…well… Why did he feel like he was taking advantage of her? _Right. She's go no idea what she's doing, and you're just the first guy that came along. Cradle snatching man whor—_

"Yeah. Kissing is weird." He agreed, before his thoughts could get too depressing.

He let go of her to turn off the lamp, not looking at her before the room went dark. The air was cooler than usual, and the window above her was open, letting the room fill with a fresh breeze. He definitely needed it, and he took a couple of deep breaths before he felt his body begin to cool down.

Blondie's toes traces small shapes on his shin well into the night, both of them keeping quiet, but neither able to sleep after their little make-out session.

* * *

He woke up first in the morning. Blondie was facing him, her lips pressed together and her eyebrows twitching as she dreamed. She slept on her stomach, her head turned toward him. He wondered how long it had taken her to fall asleep.

She'd pulled the sheet up to her shoulders during the night, so he couldn't see more of her than the side of her face, but his eyes roamed over her figure before he could help himself.

_Whipped_, the expression was. And he'd convinced himself he'd never have it happen. _What the hell is my problem?_

But he knew exactly what the problem was. He was tired of running from himself, from Eugene Fitzherbert, tired of covering Flynn Rider's tracks and having nothing to distract himself past a few casual fucks every week and an alcohol-induced sleep. Tired of putting too much energy into worrying about court and prison and trying to act like a noble citizen when he most definitely was not.

So why had it taken this weird, small human to drag him out of that? How could she possibly have this kind of power over him?

She was a breath of fresh air. Exactly what he needed. She didn't know his past, and if that meant not knowing hers to keep her next to him, it was worth it. Everything to her was new, and it helped him see the world and himself through fresh eyes.

And it meant he was a hopeless sap in the process.

The majority of his brain screamed at himself to run. Get out of there as fast as he could, before he got any more attached and couldn't leave of his own free will. But the fear of falling back into nothing, getting home every day and letting his depression and worry take over, was too strong for him to care about saving himself. At least for now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the delay in updating! Running two businesses is really getting on top of me, but I was itching to get back to this! I went a little crazy once I actually sat down and started writing again, and the M rating is on its way (just a heads up for anyone who doesn't want to go there).**

**I've smashed a few more chapters out after this one, and I'll have them ready to post ASAP!**

* * *

Rapunzel bounced excitedly on their walk down his stairs, across the small footpath outside and to his car.

"Is this your car?"

"Yep,"

"I didn't know you had a car!"

He pressed the button on his keys and it chirped as it unlocked itself. She grinned excitedly and waited for him to open his door before she did the same.

"I don't use it much," he told her as he started it up for the first time all week and watched her put her seatbelt on. "I'm usually in walking distance to anything I need to do."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "This is nice,"

It wasn't that nice. It served its purpose, but it was nothing fancy. Got him from point A to point B without any troubles, and he knew that was all he needed. He wasn't the type of guy who needed to compensate for anything through an expensive badge on the front of his car.

"What's your car's name?" she asked him as he pulled out, onto the road.

"Uhh, it doesn't have one."

"Oh," she fell back into her seat, disappointed. Flynn glanced at her for a moment too long, returning his eyes back to the road as they made their way to Bec and Georgie's salon.

"Hey! Why don't you name it for me? You're good at that type of stuff."

Rapunzel first had to decide whether his car was a girl or a boy. She seemed mortified that he wasn't actually sure, but Rapunzel decided it was a boy, seeing as it was grey. Flynn didn't really know what grey had to do with anything, but she cycled through names slowly, taking her job very seriously, and he listened to her chatter as he drove. In the last few minutes of their ride, she forgot about the names and picked at her fingernails quietly.

"Do you think I could learn how to drive?"

"You've never tried before?" he didn't wait for a reply for too long, because he was unsure whether he was going to get one at all. "I'm sure you'd be able to learn. You're pretty clever."

"Maybe I'll ask Cass if she could teach me. She has a red car. Its name is Fiesta."

"Fiesta?"

"Mm-hm," he saw Rapunzel nod in his peripheral vision. "It's written on the back of her car in silver and everything."

"How original." Flynn rolled his eyes. He'd never met Cass, but he knew he didn't like her. Just the way she held herself drove him crazy the few times he'd seen her while mopping the floors. And how dare she fill Blondie's head with warnings about him?!

"I could teach you one day, if you wanted." It was almost a whisper, and he had to clear his throat after he said it.

"You don't have to do that," she said back, just as quietly.

The small car park to the salon was empty, except for Bec and Georgie's cars. Flynn pulled into one of the outside spaces and stopped the car, feeling especially nervous. Bec had said she'd met someone, which was the only reason he'd brought Blondie in. If she hadn't told him that, there was no way he'd flaunt another girl in front of her. But their long history of sleeping together hung over him, and he hoped she didn't say anything that would tip-off Rapunzel to their relationship before her.

Not that he was trying to keep it a secret for any reason. Rapunzel had insinuated she was aware of his exploits numerous times. He was being stupid.

"You ready?"

"Yep," she breathed nervously. "Are you sure they can fit me in? I can just wait in the car, if you—"

"Don't be silly," he took the keys out of the ignition and smiled at her comfortingly. "I told Georgie I was bringing a friend in with me, she's expecting you."

"Okay," she took a long breath through her lips and let it out slowly. "Let's go,"

The sun was hot, but the breeze was cool, and Rapunzel wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Whether that was because of the breeze or nerves, Flynn wasn't sure, but she followed him up to the double glass doors and walked into the salon while he held them open for her.

Georgie's wide smile was the first thing he saw. "Bec! Look who's here!" she jumped up from her place behind the first desk and all but ran to him, wrapping in her arms tightly. She looked the same as always. Dressed to the nines for work, her short blonde hair styled away from her face elegantly. Flynn liked Georgie. There'd never been any sexual chemistry between them in the slightest, and they got along amazingly. She was the closest thing he'd ever had to a sister, and he knew Georgie had been hoping he and Bec's relationship would have transitioned into something official so the title could be legitimate.

"Hi," she offered Rapunzel a warm, genuine smile and held out her hand. "Flynn said he was bringing a friend in."

"I'm Rapunzel," Blondie took her hand and shook it gently. Flynn noticed the smile slip from Georgie's face, and something else – disbelief? – took its place.

"Rapunzel. Really?"

Before Flynn could make sense of the small exchange, a tall, dark haired figure walked out of the staff room and paused in their tracks.

"Hey, Stranger," her greeting was directed at him, but her dark eyes watched Blondie, something unreadable behind them. "Long time, no see."

"Hey, Bec," the usual witty remark escaped him, so he crammed his hands into his pockets because he was feeling especially awkward. _Get it over and done with. She's met someone. You're somewhere around that same position. Don't try to hide anything._

"Hi," her long legs stopped before Rapunzel, and she looked down at her curiously, a very forced smile on the edges of her lips. "Your hair needs a refresh," Something about their height difference made Flynn feel a surge of protectiveness for Blondie. She looked so small staring up at Bec, over a head taller than her and dressed like a runway model.

"Yeah," Blondie agreed awkwardly. "I think Flynn's getting tired of looking at it, honestly."

"Hmm," Bec finally pulled her eyes away from her and smiled, in a very professional manner, at Flynn. His guard automatically went up. She wasn't the Bec he knew. "I was wondering why you'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I was worried about you."

"Sorry," he wasn't the type of person who was going to admit he'd been going through an internal breakdown. Bec was certainly aware of this the last time he'd seen her, but as he used to use her as a distraction, it certainly wasn't reason enough to explain his absence from her life.

Georgie, being amazing as usual, sensed the awkward air and beckoned Flynn and Rapunzel toward the long mirror and chairs on the opposite end of the salon. Rapunzel hovered awkwardly for a second, so Flynn insisted he go first. She watched as Georgie shortened his hair to his usual style, asking questions about the scissors and how she learned to make hair look good. Georgie explained to her about her training, and by the look in Rapunzel's eyes, she was very interested in learning herself. She seemed to want to know all about anything she came across.

When it was her turn, she dropped into the chair excitedly, throwing a wide smile to his reflection in the mirror in front of her.

"What do you want to do with this? You've had such a big change already –"

"I think I want it all to match my real colour," Rapunzel pointed to her roots, which were now three or four inches long at her part. "I've never seen myself with it before."

"Perfect," Georgie ran her fingers through Blondie's hair a couple of times and gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze through the cape she'd draped over her shoulders. "I'll just go mix up a colour and I'll be right back."

Bec followed her sister into the back room quietly, and Flynn could hear their voices through the door, but couldn't understand what they were saying.

Rapunzel was still watching him in the mirror, and he fell into the chair beside her. "How are you feeling, Blondie?"

"I don't know…" she sighed and shrugged nervously. "I just don't know what I'll look like."

"You'll look great," he insisted. "Everyone suits their natural colour. Well, most people."

"Are you still going to call me Blondie? Even though I won't be blonde anymore?"

"Too late to break the habit now," he pushed himself to his feet. "Are you comfortable with Georgie? She's great. She'll make you a cup of tea if you ask, too."

"Mm-hm," she nodded. "You go talk to your friend Bec. It seems like she really misses you." There was no jealousy in her tone, but there was worry in her eyes. Flynn gave her a reassuring smile and slowly made his way to the back room, where Georgie and Bec were still speaking quietly.

They stopped immediately when he let himself in, closing the door behind him.

"Help yourself to anything you want, Flynn." Georgie excused herself, leaving Bec and Flynn to face each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to say to break the silence.

"So, you met someone," Flynn started, clearing his throat when the words sounded strangled. "Tell me all about him."

She laughed once and leaned her hips against the bench behind her. "He's alright. Not the most attractive man I've ever seen, but…" she sighed. "Apparently the most attractive man doesn't want me, so…" her gaze fell to the floor. "His name is Luke. He's lovely. He's been asking me out for months, and I hadn't heard from you for a while, so…" she shrugged and looked up at him, her eyes hard and her chin raised. "I went for it. He's besotted with me. Totally infatuated. I'm trying to be as into him, but it hasn't happened yet. But he's really nice guy, and I know he'd treat me well. And Georgie and our mother like him."

"That's good, Bec. You deserve that."

"I do," she agreed. "I can't be waiting for you my entire life. Gotta grab someone now while I still look like this."

He sighed, not being able to bring himself to look at her. "I'm sorry. I knew how you were feeling, and I led you on anyway."

"No, Flynn. You were clear about what you wanted. I'm just a hopeless woman who thought you'd see the light and change your mind." She laughed bitterly. "I have to ask, though. Why her? Why…why someone like her, when you had me following you around like a puppy? No offence, but it doesn't really seem like a competition…"

"She's just a friend," Flynn said quietly.

"Please," Bec rolled her eyes. "I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her. I could hardly even recognise you."

"Look," he sighed awkwardly, "Honestly, it was just nice to know I could be around someone without them knowing my history. It's nice to have someone around that I can just…exist with. Without having to put up a front and act like I'm okay all the time."

"You could talk to me!" Bec's voice raised and she crossed her arms protectively in front of herself. "I gave you so many opportunities to talk to me, about anything! I know you're not feeling yourself, and I saw you slipping, and I told you it was okay to open up to me! And you didn't!" she took a deep breath and pushed her hair away from her face. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I guess I'm not as approachable as I thought I was."

Flynn didn't say anything for a long time. Bec turned and made two cups of coffee silently, not looking at him for a few minutes. She passed him a cup, taking a long sip of her own.

"Sorry,"

"It's okay." He said gently. "I'm sorry, too."

"No, I'm being stupid. I knew who you were." She took another sip of coffee, and when she looked at him she seemed like his old Bec. "I'll organize a dinner out or something. Luke's heard a lot about you. Not certain things, of course, but he knows you're an important part of my life. He wants to meet you. And I want you to meet him, too."

"That would be really great."

"And you can bring Rapunzel along."

"Really, Bec, it's not like that. We're going to markets and eating ice cream. Nothing intimate."

"Well, you can't blame her for being a little slow," she scoffed. "How is she coping with being out?"

"What?"

"You know..." she fished around the word. "Out and about in the world."

Flynn shook his head. Bec and Rapunzel had barely said one word to each other. "Explain to me what you're trying to say?"

"You're kidding, right? You didn't think we'd know who she was? She was all anyone could talk about when she got out. This _is _a hairdressing salon, after all." She watched him closely. "Is that what the attraction was? Her five minutes of fame?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Wait…" she grinned at him like he was crazy. "Do you not know who she is? How did you miss that…" she picked her phone up off the counter and began typing quickly. "Every single one of our clients wanted to talk about her hair when they started coming in. She was all over the place for a week! Every news station, in the paper…there were online articles about her everywhere."

"We said no backstories…" Flynn's voice trailed off when she passed him the phone. Rapunzel's face greeted him from the screen. The photo was taken from a distance in front of her, showing the horrific scene of her being led from a house by police. One of the old baggy dresses he'd gotten used to seeing her in was cloaking her, and her face was torn with tears and fear, her distress obvious in the photo. She clung to the white-haired police officer beside her, her feet bare as she descended the few small steps from the front porch of the house.

The most alarming thing was the long, yellow-blonde hair that trailed inches on the ground behind her. He felt his stomach drop and his heart begin to race, and though he immediately felt sick, he couldn't help himself from reading the article below the picture.

_TEENAGER FOUND KEPT INDOORS FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS_

_Daniel Briar has been pleased to call himself one of Corona's friendly mailmen for the past twelve years. He remarks that he has lots of amusing stories to tell about our city from his time delivering letters and parcels, but none that have had quite the effect on him as the curious letter he received this past Tuesday._

_"I have always delivered to this house, for years, every day. I don't take days off too often. I'd never seen anyone in or around the house, but letters were always received, so I never thought anything of it. It wasn't until the letter was left with 'Mr. Mailman' written on the outside I wondered about the tenants themselves."_

_Mr. Briar was almost finished his shift for the day when he came across the letter in question, pushed underneath the door onto the front porch. In it, a handwritten note to tell him that the young girl's mother had passed away, and as she did not know anyone else, she needed help with what to do next._

_"I didn't finish my shift. I tried knocking on the door, and I could hear someone moving around inside, but I didn't get an answer. I took the letter to the police station. I wasn't really sure what to do next, so I thought they might be able to handle it a bit better than a postman."_

_Officer Max Stapleton of the Corona Police was on the scene immediately. The body of the woman who owned the house was found in her bedroom. It's assumed she had been deceased for at least forty-eight hours prior to her being found, but further tests are underway. There is no knowledge yet of how, exactly, she passed away._

_The girl in question hid from police when they entered the house. It has been said she attempted to protect herself from them with a frying pan. She has advised that her name is Rapunzel, and she had not left the house at all in her lifetime. There is no record of the woman who owned the house ever having a child. Tests are planned to be made to determine whether the woman was the child's biological mother._

_The most interesting part of the case, however, was the unusual hair the teenager sported. Apparently never having been cut, Rapunzel said her mother would bleach it fortnightly, at the very least, and told her she needed her to keep growing it to keep her young and healthy enough to be able to take care of her._

_The girl has been admitted to the psych ward in Corona Private Hospital. There is no word yet of what will happen to her in future._

Flynn stared at the article for a long time, not able to bring himself to say anything. He didn't scroll back up to the picture. He knew he would break if he saw that again.

He'd had to read lines multiple times just to understand what the article was actually saying. This was _his_ Rapunzel – someone he apparently knew nothing about.

But that wasn't entirely true. She was so innocent, so unknowing of the world around her. She drank in the most simple things around her like they were the single most amazing things she'd ever seen, which very well might have been true. She didn't know how to talk to people. She didn't know how to act around people. She didn't know how to be intimate with people. She'd all but stalked Flynn when she'd first met him. And then there was the frying pan incident the night they'd first met…

He knew how she was. He knew her. And though their no backstory rule was just about the foundation of their relationship, if her actions didn't tell him what kind of life she'd had before she'd bumped into him, the hints she'd thrown at him did.

_"I was inside for a long time…"_

"Flynn,"

He looked up at Bec, forcing the phone into her hands, frozen, unable to say anything.

"Are you okay? It took you a while to read that."

"I didn't know," he choked out.

"Your coffee's going to be cold."

He picked up the cup and drank as much as he could in one go, taking a deep breath as he lowered it again and held it tightly between his hands.

He'd officially ruined things. He'd gone and broken their one rule they had for their relationship.

But he didn't have to tell her he knew… he could just keep going along with what was happening, keep accepting her as he had been, watch her grow as she had been, and help her with whatever she needed.

"I thought it might be important for you to know…" Bec said quietly. "I feel like you couldn't really understand her without…without knowing that stuff, you know?"

He looked at her for a long time, and he knew what she was trying to tell him without her having to say as much.

She was testing him. If she couldn't have him, she was going to push him to see if Rapunzel could. Who like Flynn would accept someone like Rapunzel once they knew her history? Even though the girl had gone all out to try to change and better herself since her escape. He wondered if he would ever be able to see past his new knowledge of the girl he'd found himself unable to leave alone.

Suddenly Georgie's loud laugh sounded, and he wondered what Rapunzel had said to effect her so. Bec looked toward the door and back at him quietly.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," he said again.

She watched him for a long time. "Surely you knew something was up. I mean, she must be a bit strange, growing up all on her own like that…"

"I knew something was different about her," he agreed quietly. His voice was low, though he knew Rapunzel would not be able to hear him through the door at any rate. "She's so different, but when I talked to her, and got to see her out in the world, it's not something I questioned. It was just her. She's just different."

"I'm surprised she got out of the hospital that quickly, honestly." Bec continued. "She must have been really messed up. Her mother was obviously out of her mind."

Flynn couldn't listen to anymore. He heard the water running out in the main section of the salon and downed the rest of his coffee quickly, washing it in the sink in their little kitchenette.

"I'm sorry," Bec said for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd entered their staff room. "I didn't think. I just felt like everyone already knew about this, and you were in the dark."

He didn't accept her apology. He didn't say anything. He paused for a long moment at the door, wondering whether he should try to pull himself together before going back out to be with Blondie and Georgie, but knowing that wasn't going to be easy. He also knew that if he had to look at Bec again while she had all that pity in her eyes he'd break down, and he couldn't do that in front of her.

Georgie had just finished washing Blondie's hair, and he almost stopped in his tracks when he saw her grinning, the dark ends of her hair flicking against her chin, small drops of water dripping from the messy mass as she crossed back to her chair in front of the mirror.

Georgie was saying something as she plugged in the cord to her hair dryer, but Flynn wasn't in the right state of mind to listen to what that was. Blondie's eyes swept from Georgie to Flynn in the mirror, and as she took in the look on his face her smile slipped from her face quickly, and her eyes grew wide with worry.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

He could feel Bec move to stand beside him. He knew his face wasn't it's usual cocky self, that he'd let his guard down completely, and still he stood, staring at her in the mirror with an expression he wasn't entirely sure of.

Rapunzel's eyes quickly flicked from him to Bec in the mirror, back and forth, as she summed up what had just happened.

"You found out," she paused for a long time, watching him closely, begging for him to prove her wrong before she suddenly leapt from the chair, struggling to rip the cape from her neck. Georgie paused, confused, her hairdryer held up in her hands to start its work, though her model was now out of reach. "You said no backstories! That was your idea!"

"Blondie, I—"

"No!" her voice was pained, and she ran from the salon, ripping open the door and exiting in one fluid movement, leaving him staring after her.

His feet were moving before he knew what was happening. He ran as fast as he was able, infuriated when he had to wait to open the door. She was out of the car park by the time he was outside, and he called after her.

"Blondie, stop! How are you going to get home?"

"Don't worry about me!" she turned and pointed at him accusingly, her feet still moving away from him, stepping backwards slowly. "You told me you weren't going to find out! You promised me no backstories!" a car's horn sounded loudly as it rounded the corner of the street, almost clipping her as she backed out onto the road.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think—"

"No, because you only worry about Flynn! Flynn, Flynn, Flynn! And I was worrying about you, too," her voice broke and her face crumpled and he took another step toward her, his arm reached out to try to get her off the road.

"Rapunzel,"

"Well, now you know, so you can go and feel sorry for me like everyone else!" she laughed loudly, without humour, and turned, running again, disappearing behind the trees in the neighbour's front yard.


	13. Chapter 13

The bookshop was quiet. It had been quiet all week. Which was just the worst, because Flynn could really use a distraction right now.

He'd known all along that he'd been using Blondie as a way out of his life. A way to keep his head on track, and not fall into his old habits. But only the last few days had proven how pathetic he truly was without her guidance.

The first night he'd stayed at home. He'd brought home beers to tell himself it was to unwind after their little confrontation in the salon car park. He'd payed Bec and Georgie distractedly and then spent the better part of two hours driving laps from the salon to central Corona and back, slowing down when he was able, trying to look around buildings to see if he could catch any sign of her.

It would have taken her a long time to walk home. He wondered if she made it safely.

Staying at home had proven to be extremely difficult. He finished his drinks and, feeling particularly reckless, wondered whether he should go out. But he was a sad, inebriated mess, so he stayed in, looked for his forgotten packet of cigarettes and chain smoked on the windowsill until he could feel his throat and lungs burn in protest.

The next day he sent her a text message. They'd only ever used their phones to solidify plans before, so it felt weird actually saying something to her through it

_Hey Blondie. I'm sorry for what happened. I just want you to know it doesn't change anything._

_There's a documentary about the dessert on TV tonight. I saw camels in the ad. Let me know if you want to come over and watch it._

He didn't get a reply throughout the day, so the second night, he'd gone out. He didn't contact Bec to see if she would meet him there. He told himself this was because she was seeing someone and he didn't want to be the reason that was ruined. He didn't have to wonder what would happen if he proposed they go back to his house; she'd follow him blindly. It was a positive answer. Somewhere deep inside him, though, he knew that he was a little mad at her for what had happened. And seeing Bec would remind him of Blondie, and then he'd be embarrassing himself in front of everyone.

It wasn't hard to find company after seating himself at the bar. She kind of came to him all by herself. She was quite tall, lacking curves a little too much for his taste, but she was pretty, and her short, tight dress told him what she was there for.

So he went along with it. When they were finished she seemed a little offended that he couldn't even offer her a second side to the conversation, so she didn't hang around. He didn't say goodbye when she closed his apartment door behind her.

If sex didn't make him feel any better, he wondered if anything would.

On the third night he decided he was going to quit moping and tried to call her. It went to the voice message the phone company provided, but he hung up at the beep. He checked the time and wondered if she'd stayed back at work late. He tried calling again when he knew the cake shop would definitely be closed, but couldn't get through. He went out again, to a different bar, but sat quietly by himself and didn't entertain anyone. He stayed until there were only a few people hanging around and the bartender started cleaning up. He decided he looked hopeless and went home to struggle to sleep.

Tonight would be the fourth night. Blondie was obviously doing a great job ignoring him, so he hadn't called her again. He didn't want to seem as pathetic as he truly was.

He closed slowly, unsure of whether to go about with what he'd planned for his night. He'd worn an outfit that he thought he looked especially good in today, but now that the time was here to close the store and get out he started wondering whether he should just go home.

The Snuggly Duckling was the only place he could think of as safe ground. He couldn't go to her house, because he didn't chase girls. Girls chased him. He couldn't go to the cake shop, because she would know he was just there to see her.

He told himself the Snuggly Duckling was mutual ground. He'd never been there on his own before, but they knew him by now and he didn't need Blondie around to justify a visit. And if she just happened to show up to see her friends, so be it. He might have to apologise in person and see if she'd accept him back into her life.

And if she didn't, whatever. He was a big boy. He didn't need her.

He wondered if she'd been there since he last saw her. The regulars loved her, and she was probably seeking comfort, seeing as he'd tarnished her trust. He wondered if she'd said anything to them. Would they ask him where she was when he walked through the door? Would he have to explain to them that she was mad at him because he was a stupid jerk who didn't know anything about people?

Nah. He was great. This wasn't affecting him at all.

He noticed the way they hesitated when he walked into the room. Whether that was because they knew something, or because he was alone, he wasn't immediately sure.

A few of them followed him with their eyes, looking pretty angry, but that was nothing new. He ordered his usual beer, and Hookhand dropped it in front of him silently, as usual. It was only when Big Nose occupied Blondie's usual seat and looked at him sympathetically that he knew she'd been here.

"What?"

"You don't have to act all tough with me, Flynn. I understand you're hurting."

_Ugh. Always the romantic._

"What did she tell you?"

Big Nose sighed, probably for dramatic effect, and turned his glass between his fingers slowly. "She's trying to act tough. She said that she'd been wasting time with you, and she seems intent to find someone younger and better looking."

"Is that right?"

"She's only saying those things because she wants you, you know that."

"Who wouldn't?" Flynn threw his head back and drank as much of his beer as he could without choking. He was starting to feel very hot with defence inside. "Well, she's got her work cut out for her, at the very least. She knows there's no one better looking than me in Corona."

"She said you're not her type."

"What?!"

"She said she wants someone shorter, so she can kiss them easily. And someone with glasses, because they seem to be nicer people."

Flynn scoffed, staring at the bar angrily. "Right. Good for her."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing. She doesn't want to see me – I'm not going to force her to."

"Then why are you here?" Gah, he just got nosier and nosier!

Flynn didn't really know how to answer that one. He'd been working on an excuse for his visit that didn't involve Blondie on his way over, but he hadn't really come to anything.

"She hasn't been in tonight, if you're wondering. But I can tell her you were here, if you want."

"Nope," Flynn drained the rest of his beer and stood up. "I was just passing through. I don't want to see her either, so no need. Hope she's good."

He turned and left before he could get a reply.

* * *

Work was probably the best thing for him right now, as dull as it was.

It kept him somewhere he wouldn't do damage to himself. He had purpose, though it was only to sit behind the desk and charge the few customers they had each hour.

He'd been invited upstairs again for dinner the previous night, and he was grateful that Frank and Joan avoided the subject of the pretty girl helping him with work not too long before. He was positive Frank would have let slip of Flynn's little helper, and he wouldn't have been able to deal with Joan's excitement or questions about her.

Any distraction was a good distraction, at this stage.

It had been a while since he read a book, but he grabbed one that caught his eye from the shelves and sat in his chair at the desk, trying to get lost in the storyline so as not to think about what a pathetic mess he was. Serial killers seemed like a good subject not to remind him of Blondie.

He stopped his reading only to serve, not even looking toward the door when new customers entered the shop. His heart raced when the bell on the door sounded, and a familiar female voice said his name from the entrance.

"Flynn,"

Not the familiar voice he wanted to hear, he realised as he glanced up into Georgie's uncertain blue eyes.

"Hey, George. What brings you out here?" he stood from his seat and closed the book on the desk before him, plastering on his most dashing smile.

Georgie approached the other side of the counter and leaned against it, her voice gentle and quiet. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened last week. Bec said she hasn't heard from you since, and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Ah," he waved her off, not able to look at her for too long. "It's fine, don't worry yourself over it. As I said, we weren't serious at all. I haven't even slept with her. She was more like a friend I was helping out. I'm fine."

"Right," he saw her roll her eyes out of the corner of his own and looked up again to meet her defensively.

"I'm serious. It's not bothering me at all. I've got more to think about than a teenager who has no idea what she's doing."

"She seemed nice," her voice was still just as gentle. "I'm not going to say she seemed like a hundred percent match for you, but I don't really know what kind of girl would be a good match, honestly. You're a tough one to figure out, Flynn." She chuckled with him for a few seconds. "Have you heard from her?"

"No," he sighed. He dropped his defensive pretence and sank into his seat once again. "No, she's not answering me. I'm wondering whether she just needs some time to get over it, or if I've completely ruined things."

"Hmm," Georgie reached out and mussed his hair comfortingly. "Well, I did want to apologise on my sister's behalf, I guess. I know you're aware of how Bec feels about you. I think her grand plan was to get you jealous over her seeing someone else and leave him when you said you wanted her, but it didn't really go according to plan. She's a good person, but she's had her mind set on you for a long time, and she shouldn't have told you about Rapunzel if you didn't already know. It's not her business."

"It's fine. You know I love Bec. I really hope she doesn't give up on this guy. It would be nice for her to find someone that wants her back." Flynn cleared his throat as he choked on his words. "I always felt guilty for seeing her. She deserves better than me."

"Not better than you, just someone else." George grinned at him and he attempted to do the same, failing miserably. "You'll let me know if you need anything?"

"Will do,"

"See you, Flynn,"

And, like magic, the moment Georgie exited the store was the moment Flynn had more than enough to distract himself with.

There was a loud thump from the ceiling above him, a crash, and then, after a few moments, while Flynn was still looking up in confusion, as if he could see right through to the apartment upstairs, Frank's voice, distraught enough to rip a hole right through Flynn's chest.

"Eugene!"

His voice got closer as Flynn listened to him make his way to the door that led to the staircase, down to the store. Forgetting the customers, who were looking toward him with worry, Flynn tore out of his seat, into the back room, meeting Frank on the staircase where he was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with worried tears. "Joan! Call for an ambulance, now!"

* * *

Rapunzel gripped at the baggy sleeves of her cardigan at her wrists tightly, hugging herself into a small ball on the navy row of seats. The police station was always too cold, and for once she wished she'd worn shoes, or at the very least, socks. She liked being outside, in the sun. Corona was always warm, and it felt like a hug, Rapunzel decided. A hug from the sun. It was the only thing that offered her embrace, and she wished she were out soaking that up rather than in the bland, air-conditioned office waiting to see Max.

The officer had called her in, wishing to speak to her. His phone call had only lasted thirty seconds or so, and she'd accepted his invitation in automatically. He had been very good for her, whether or not she wanted to continue talking about her situation. The entire thing was getting very tiring, and she wished she could just run away and start new somewhere else.

But Corona was where she wanted to be. If only she could be someone different.

The heavy door to the rest of the station opened, and she looked up expectedly. The white-haired officer smiled gently at her and motioned for her to follow him into one of the all too-familiar rooms in the hall. Nothing but a small table, two chairs and a computer. There was a box full of hand-knitted teddy bears under the desk, and Rapunzel had wished on more than one occasion to go digging through them, but she was trying to seem sensible. Maybe this could all end if she did.

"I like your hair," Officer Max commented as she seated herself in her usual spot, leaning against the desk with her arms. "It suits you."

"It should," she attempted a smile back at him. "It's the colour it should be now. I'm never going to change it again."

He sat on the other side of the desk and opened a thin manila folder, logging himself into the computer before he said anything else. "And how is work going? Are you enjoying it?"

"I like the work," Rapunzel mused. "I don't really get along with the people there, to be honest. I think that would make things easier. But everyone will find out about me sooner or later, so I guess anywhere else would be the same."

"You can always find something else," Max folded his hands on the desk in front of her, his body language professional, but his brown eyes were soft, and Rapunzel knew he had started truly caring about her somewhere along the line of getting her out of her house and setting up her new life.

"Are you okay?" he asked, turning back to the computer and doing something on the screen she couldn't see. "You don't seem yourself today."

"I just…" she sighed and tugged at the ends of her choppy hair anxiously. "I haven't really spoken to anyone in a while. I haven't been going outside very often again. And I don't know how I'm feeling."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

"Mm-hm," she nodded once. "I get dizzy if I don't take it. My doctor said I'm not allowed to stop until she tells me it's okay. And she said one day my panic attacks will stop, but I'm still waiting for that."

"It can take some time." He sighed and leaned toward her, over the desk. "Why haven't you been going out? I thought you had a friend you were spending time with?"

"Yeah," Rapunzel sighed and took to picking off the green nail polish from her fingers. That was about all she painted them for. "We're not really friends anymore. He found out about…me…and I kind of ran away. But I know staying wouldn't have helped anything. He's really cool, he wouldn't want to be friends with a freak like me."

"So your friend was a boy?"

"I think…I think he's more of a man? He's a bit older than me."

"How much older?"

"Umm…eight years?"

Max cleared his throat and put his hand to his chin. "Maybe he wants to keep knowing you, Rapunzel. Maybe someone older would keep you more grounded. Is he someone who has his life sorted?"

Rapunzel resisted the urge to laugh sarcastically. "Everyone has their life sorted more than _I _do!" Max met her gaze evenly, and she reminded herself her eyes were way too wide to be taken seriously. "No, I'm finished being friends with him. I embarrassed myself too much to turn back now."

He held up his hands defensively. "Okay! Off the friend's situation. I know you'll be okay, Rapunzel. The difference in you from just a couple of months ago to now is incredible. You're very strong, and you'll be fine."

She didn't know what to say to that. She suspected he was just being overly nice to her so he could get on with whatever this meeting was about.

"So," he turned to a specific page in his folder and slipped it out, avoiding her eyes for now. "Your test results came back. How would you like to meet your parents?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you so much for all of the reviews and favourites and follows! They mean the absolute world to me!**

**I hope you're all feeling much happier for our Eugene and Rapunzel after this one!**

* * *

How appropriate for the sky to open and rain to fall for one of the few times of the year in Corona during a funeral.

Flynn stood straight and silent the entire service, offering his arm for Frank when he needed support. He learned many things about Joan that he'd never known before, and when photos were shown and he saw his own young face smiling with his mother and Joan, he swallowed thickly and held back his emotions.

The wake was held in Joan's favourite restaurant, which had been closed to the general public. Frank disappeared into the small crowd of people offering their sympathies, and Flynn sat by himself in the corner, staring down his beer without taking a sip. He removed his suit jacket and rolled the white sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, his hair finally drying after the walk in the rain from the taxi to the entrance of the restaurant.

The audience at the funeral hadn't been huge. Frank and Joan never had a family of their own, though they had quite the social life. Those of their friends that were left and their families came to see her off, and as Flynn was seated beside Frank in the front aisle of the church for the service, many had offered their sympathies to him, though most of them had no idea who he was.

Flynn waited for the crowd to start dispersing before standing from his table and pushing his way through Frank's small audience, excusing himself quietly. He offered help with anything the old man needed and told him to get home safe, telling him he would see him next week. The bookshop would be closed for the rest of the week.

He drove back to his apartment without the radio on, his windscreen wipers on high, his stomach empty. He didn't know how he was feeling. He was back in his hole of despair and depression, and Joan passing had just been the icing on the cake. He hadn't been good enough for her. He wasn't good enough for anyone.

He took his time locking his car and putting his keys in his pockets, standing in the rain with his jacket over his arm, drenching himself, just feeling sorry for himself for as long as possible.

The day was still warm, though the rain was cold. Once he walked into the small room with the staircase he felt the mugginess of the day creep up on him, and he pushed his fringe out of his eyes, rain water running down his nose uncomfortably.

He trudged up the staircase, fishing for his keys once again, freezing in his place when he reached the landing and realised he was not alone.

"Blondie," he gasped.

Her wide green eyes were looking at him in what appeared to be intense relief, tears threatening to spill over her bottom lid. "Oh! Thank God! I went to the bookshop, and I saw the sign on the door, about the funeral – about losing a staff member, and I – I –" she let out a loud whimper and slumped forward. "I'm so sorry, Flynn,"

Here she was. Right in front of him. She'd been so unreachable for what seemed like forever, and he had to make things right now that he had her here in front of him. He had to make her forget about him finding out her big secret, even it out, make her want to stay. She was the one thing that helped him keep his head straight, and he didn't want to stay in this dark hole, unable to figure out how to climb his way out.

And before he could help himself, _his_ biggest secret slipped from his lips.

"Eugene,"

She wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks and frowned at him in confusion. "What?"

"My real name is Eugene Fitzherbert."

She stared at him for a long time, blocking the front door to his home. Her lip continued to tremble with emotion, and she shook her head as she thought over his words. "Eugene,"

His name had never sounded so sweet.

He breathed out in anticipation and stepped forward, noticing that she didn't move away from him. "I need to make things up to you. Will you come inside? I'll tell you everything."

She didn't answer, but he unlocked the door and held it open for her, and she walked in ahead of him. She was back to her baggy dresses and cardigan, and she must have been waiting for quite some time, because they were almost dry, along with her hair. It stuck up at all angles, dark to match her eyebrows now, and he watched her for too long when she turned and ran her eyes over him.

"You need to have a shower. You're soaking wet."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Will you still be here when I'm out?"

She nodded cautiously. "I'll make a cup of tea while I wait. I'll be here."

He showered quickly and pulled on a pair of sweat pants, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes and staring himself down in the small mirror over his basin. His heart raced in his chest, and he half-expected her to have disappeared when he left the bathroom, throwing his towel over the door behind him.

The balcony doors were open, and she was seated at the small table in the centre, watching the rain with a cup of black tea between her small hands. She didn't look up as he seated himself in front of her, tiny sprays of rain off the hand railing spitting against his bare chest.

"Rapunzel," he said her name gently, and she turned to him slowly, not looking at him. Her eyes were still cautious, and red from her tears. "I'm so sorry,"

_"I'm _sorry," she finally spluttered. "I was so scared of you finding out. I just knew you were going to think I was pathetic like everyone else does, I didn't even wait around to find out! I'm sorry! If you don't want to spend time with me anymore, I understand, but I thought I should at least hear it from you!" she breathed in a shuddering breath and launched back into her speech. "I went to the bookshop to talk to you; I needed advice, but I saw the note on the door, and I thought something terrible had happened to you and I was so, so scared, Fl – _Eugene,"_ she swallowed and lifted her tea to her lips, clinging onto the mug tightly. "I feel like I need you, but I know that if you want this to end, I will be okay. I can get through it, so you don't have to worry about hurting my feelings."

"Blondie, stop," he took one of her hands from the mug and held it tightly in his fingers, noting the goosebumps on her wrist. Whether it was from the weather or nerves, he wasn't sure, but he stood from the table and pulled her with him.

"Come inside? I really need to talk to you. I found out your backstory, and I think you should hear mine, too."

"You don't have to do that –"

"I do," he silenced her. "If not for you, then for me. It's something I've never talked about before, and honestly Blondie…" he chuckled without any trace of humour. "I need you. I don't want this to end. And I don't think I'll be okay without you."

She was shocked into silence, looking up at him with her wide green eyes. He tugged her inside, pulling her toward his bed and sitting cross-legged in front of her. She followed his position, wringing her hands in her lap nervously.

He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure where to start. Rapunzel, her tea forgotten on the bed-side table, looked at him closely, unsurely. She was the first one to speak, prompting him.

"Eugene Fitzherbert…" she mused quietly. "I thought it was a coincidence that you'd found books with your name on them."

"They were my mother's favourite books," he told her. "She used to read them to me. I collect any copy I find. You don't come across them very often."

"Where is your mother?" she asked warily, as if she already knew the answer.

"I was orphaned when I was eight years old," he was surprised at how even his voice was when he said this, seeing as it was the first time he had ever actually spoken about it. "The woman who died today used to take care of my mother when she was growing up. She and her husband are about all the family I have." He cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose it's just Frank now."

"Tell me about your mother?" Rapunzel leaned toward him. "What was her name?"

"Lily," he said quietly. "I don't know what to say about her without bringing the conversation down, really…"

"Hey," she offered a small laugh and put her hand on his shoulder, pulling it away quickly. "It's not exactly a happy conversation to begin with, is it? And you're rivalling my backstory, remember? The sadder the better. I want to know everything, if you want to tell me."

"Okay," he tried to smile at her, then lowered his eyes to her bare feet on his bed, finding it a lot easier to speak to the sheets than into her huge green eyes. "My mother was abused by her father when she was growing up. She lost her mother at a young age herself, and her father got involved in some bad things and kind of screwed up his life when it happened, so she'd leave and hide at the neighbour's house a lot of the time. She was scared of him. Frank and Joan took her in like she was their own daughter, and she loved them so much. I have no idea what happened to my grandfather. She lost contact with him when she was old enough to move out.

"She met my father when she was sixteen, and that was it. He was similar to her father. He took a lot of drugs and drank too much, and thought he deserved to have complete control over her. She was only nineteen when she had me, and they got married a couple of years after that."

"Did she love him?" Rapunzel interjected, completely involved in his story. "Even if he wasn't a nice person, did she want to be with him?"

"Yeah, she loved him a lot," he was finally able to look at her. "He didn't deserve it. He terrified me when I was growing up. My mother and I were both walking on egg shells most of the time. If either of us did something he didn't like, we'd know about it soon enough. Everything had to be his way, or nothing."

"That's sad."

He hesitated when he noticed her eyes, pink and wet with new tears. "Did you want me to stop?"

She shook her head and reached for her tea. "No. I want to know all about Eugene Fitzherbert."

He scoffed, wondering how he felt about his full name, his _real_ name, coming out of her mouth.

"When I was eight he went through a particularly bad stage and mum had finally had enough, and she left for Frank and Joan's house. We used to visit them at least once a week, but I don't remember my father ever being there. He'd started telling her she wasn't allowed to work, and she wasn't allowed to dress a certain way, and she needed to love him more than me. She hardly left the house toward the end.

"We stayed with Frank and Joan for a long time, and they took care of us. I was leaving school one afternoon, and my father was waiting outside for me. I went home with him without thinking about it. I just assumed my mother had sent him to get me. But she showed up, hysterical, later in the night and I heard them screaming for hours. We hadn't been there for weeks, and he was so angry. I managed to fall asleep at some point, but they were still fighting, and I woke up to my mother pulling me out of bed –" he suddenly choked on his words and he pushed his hand to his brow, hiding his eyes when he felt tears burn in them. He would not cry. He hadn't cried over this for a very long time, and he wasn't about to start now. The older kids in the orphanage had toughened him up, and somewhere deep inside he was still scared to show his emotions.

"If it's too hard to talk about, it's okay," he felt her small hand on his own in his lap, and she squeezed it comfortingly. "I don't need to know things."

"No, it's okay," he pulled himself together, disassociating himself from the rest of his story. He rushed through the rest of it, getting to the point so he could end it. "My father had set the house on fire while I was sleeping. He stayed inside, but my mother came to me and got me out. I remember her screaming at me to close my eyes and hold my breath, and I remember people on the street shouting that they'd called ambulances, and I remember watching the house burn. I remember exactly how it looked. My father never came out. And my mother died in the hospital later that night. She'd breathed in too much smoke."

Rapunzel sighed quietly, but he still wasn't able to look at her. "So I went into an orphanage, and into a couple of foster homes, but I was a real little shit. No one wanted me around for long. When I was sixteen I left, and I fell into the same pattern as my father, but rather than finding someone to control, I kind of distanced myself from everyone."

"You were all by yourself."

"Yep," he chewed on his lip. "I guess I still am, technically."

"What did you do? You were sixteen?"

"I was arrested a few times. I didn't have a home, so I didn't mind being behind bars for the most part. I was diagnosed with kleptomania when I was eighteen, but I honestly think I was just stealing for attention, and the drugs didn't help me keep a clear head. It was easy enough for me to stop it all when…when I…" he sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "Oh, God…"

"What is it?"

He leaned his chin in his palms, finally looking up at her. "It's not good."

"Was any of it?" she looked at him sympathetically. "You've come this far. You can tell me."

"This is more about…how terrible a person _I _am, not about how I was cut out to be this way."

"I can handle it. I promise, I'm listening. I'm the last person who can judge you."

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes. "Because _you've_ done some horrible stuff, Blondie." She looked at him expectantly and he sighed heavily. "I teamed up with two other guys and stole the Lost Princess' crown. All three of us were arrested, obviously. Frank bailed me out last year. Now I'm waiting for my trial to find out what my sentence is going to be."

"Wow," Blondie breathed, leaning back in her place. "That's…that's a big thing."

"Yeah," he scratched the hair at the back of his neck. "That was enough to scare me straight, honestly. I don't even know why we thought that was a good idea, we were never going to get away with it. Just shows what the right amount of drugs and alcohol can do to your brain, I suppose. Our confidence was too high, and I'll be paying for it for who knows how long."

"Eugene…" Rapunzel was wringing her hands together again, anxious as she watched him. "You're going to be okay. They'll realise how good you've gotten and they'll be proud of you! You have a good job, and a nice home, and you're not involved in those things anymore! You'll be okay –"

"I deserve jail time, Rapunzel," he said sternly. "There's no reason why I should get off, from turning myself around. I did something bad, and I expect to pay for it."

"But –"

"Hey!" he pushed her hands into her lap, stopping her nervous movements. "It's fine, I've accepted it. Besides, I haven't even been told a date yet. It's still in the future, so we're not worrying about it yet, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears yet again, and he kicked himself for scaring her. "Did you want to leave?"

"What?" she looked toward the door. "Did you want me to go?"

"It's okay if you want to leave. I'm not going to force you to stay."

"I want to stay with you."

He was quiet for a long time, and Rapunzel broke the silence yet again.

"The funeral today…that was for Joan?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "She had a stroke last week. She wasn't going to wake up."

Rapunzel nodded silently, chewing on her lips thoughtfully. "I'm sorry,"

Eugene was about to reach out for her, but stopped himself quickly. "I could have been better to her. I'm so angry at myself for avoiding them. Now Frank's all by himself, and he worries too much about work. I don't know what to do to make it better."

"You'll make it better, Eugene." She pushed herself toward him, their knees touching. "I know you don't think so, but you're a good person."

"I don't know about that, Blondie."

She sighed and fell down, onto the pillow behind her, tapping the other one. "Lie down with me."

He did. They turned to face each other, scanning each other's faces carefully, not saying anything. Rapunzel's eyes trailed over his bare chest and stomach often, not trying to hide from his view. Her face was thoughtful, and eventually she stared off into space, thinking over his story.

Maybe an hour had passed when one of them finally spoke again. The rain continued outside, constant, not getting heavier or lighter, but the sky was dark and it was hard to see each other when Blondie opened her mouth.

"Well, I guess you're going to have to give me a new nickname now."

He grinned and wrapped his arm around her hips, tugging her into him. "Did I ever tell you I have a thing for brunettes?"


	15. Chapter 15

They had fallen asleep beside each other in the dark room. When the sun rose and the rain had stopped, he woke to find her, still in her dress, on top of the sheets, hugging the pillow under her head. She was lying on her stomach, and her hair covered most of her face. He allowed himself a long moment of watching her sleep, mulling over what he'd told her last night. Somehow, saying the things he'd been hiding from for years made him feel a little lighter. She was still here, even though she knew his horrible past and the things he'd done.

And he felt better about knowing her story now, as well. They were both aware of each other's lives. Somehow he felt more comfortable with her now, as Eugene Fitzherbert, than he ever had hiding behind his Flynn Rider mask.

She stirred after a while, catching him watching her. She yawned widely. "Good morning," she grinned. "Eugene,"

"Morning, Sunshine."

She giggled sleepily. "Oh, I didn't brush my teeth last night…"

"We fell asleep. Sorry about that, kid."

"Hmm," she rubbed her eyes tiredly and pushed herself up. "Well, I have no clothes and no more underwear, so I suppose I'd better head home."

"Or," he suggested quickly. "You borrow my clothes and we wash them this morning? The sun is out. It won't take long for them to dry."

"That sounds better." She agreed, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good, all things considered," he pushed a dark lock of hair off her face, and she froze, watching him closely. "Thanks for letting me talk last night."

"Thanks for telling me your story."

He suddenly frowned. "You had something to talk to me about yesterday. You never told me."

"Oh," her eyebrows suddenly drew together. "Yeah…" she sucked in a huge breath and pushed herself up onto her left arm, frowning at the sheets beneath her. "I think I needed you for advice…they found my parents. My _real_ parents. And they're alive and they live just outside of Corona. I had to do tests and swab my mouth and everything, and they found out who they were through my saliva. Isn't that interesting? But yeah, it's up to me whether I want to meet them or not. They're not going to contact them until I've made my decision."

Eugene felt his eyebrows raise into his hairline. "Wow," he chewed on the inside of his mouth, thinking it over. "Do you know anything about them?"

She nodded slowly, looking at up him with a very indifferent expression. Whether or not she was trying to distance herself from her new found family, he wasn't sure, but it was rare of Blondie to not give away exactly how she was feeling through those eyes.

"They were high up in the government or something at the time I went missing. Max said after that he – _my father, _retired and they moved out of the central part of the city. Now they have normal jobs. I was their only child, and there was a big investigation going on for years. I went missing from their home in the middle of the night, but they couldn't find any evidence of...my mother...or where she'd taken me."

"Wait, wait, wait," Eugene held up a hand to pause her as something clicked in his mind. "Your parents are Frederick and Arianna Levant?!"

"Oh…yeah…"

Now it was Eugene's turn to sigh. He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his stomach. "I remember all of that happening. It was everywhere, for ages. It happened when I'd just entered the orphanage, and there were pictures of you all over everything." He chuckled darkly. "I had a plan to be adopted by them, seeing as they were missing a child and I was missing parents. Not to mention all of their money."

"So you know about them, then?" her eyes were hopeful.

He hesitated. "Not so much about them personally. I have no idea what they look like, or how they act. They're basically Corona royalty, for this day and age. Both of their parents were involved in the council for years, and their grandparents. It's in their blood. I think Frederick is related somehow to the last royal family Corona had, as well. They've been here forever."

"Huh," Rapunzel was thoughtful for a long moment. "So what should I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

She scrunched her nose. "I don't know! What if they're over it now? It's been eighteen years…maybe they've forgotten about me. Maybe they're happy that it's just the two of them."

"Or maybe they're still waiting for their daughter to come home." Eugene offered. "I don't think that's something people get over, Blondie. You'd probably set their entire lives right if you showed up on their doorstep. But, it's your decision. Don't do it for them. Do you want to have family in your life?"

"I don't know…" she answered slowly. "I don't know what that would be like."

"It's a nice support network for when you need it. I wished I'd had it when I was your age. I probably would have avoided a lot of trouble."

"What scares me, is that they're not going to understand me at all. What if they look at me like everyone else does? What if they're scared to say things to me incase I break down?"

"I don't speak to you like that, do I?" Eugene didn't make a move toward her, waiting to hear her response.

"No, you don't." she smiled a little. "Thank you."

"I figure I'm more the freak than you are," he brushed her off.

She laughed once. "I don't know about that."

It looked as though she was thinking way too hard, so Eugene suggested she jump in the shower and he would wash her clothes. He brought her one of his t-shirts that looked like a dress on her little body and a pair of boxer briefs and opened the door just enough to place them inside and reach for her clothes. A large part of him wanted to poke his head in and take a look at her, but he didn't know how she'd react and he didn't need to freak her out again.

He hadn't done washing for a week or so, with everything going on, so he filled his washing machine to the top, pausing when he threw in her bra and underwear. It _was_ padded. He knew it! The small navy print and yellow daisies matched the fabric on the lace underwear she'd been wearing and he shook his head in an attempt to clear it when he imagined her wearing them. It wasn't a sexy pair of underwear by any means, but it suited her down to the ground.

He was making her a cup of tea and toast when she exited the bathroom, tugging at his underwear on her thighs while she grinned. "These are comfy! Extra room to hide butter!"

It was times like these he had to work to keep the humoured look off his face. If she saw it, she would proclaim that he thought she was weird and maybe run away again. He did hope, however, that she wouldn't be putting butter in his underwear any time soon.

"Extra room for _you_," he placed her cup of tea on the counter and she took a seat, looking toward him interestedly. Her eyes fell to his pants, and quickly back up to his face and he cleared his throat. "What did you want to do today?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "Honestly, I just like being with you where I don't have to think about anything. It's like another world in here. I forget everything else."

"I know what you mean," he sighed. He took a long sip of coffee and buttered her toast when it popped, covering it with chocolate spread he'd bought specifically for her on one of his last trips to the grocery store. He'd figured out that the more sugar in something, the better Blondie would like it.

"Did you have anything you needed to do today?" she asked him when he presented her breakfast. He leaned against the counter and watched her chew on her crusts.

"Nothing. Work is closed for a while, and I haven't made any plans for a couple of weeks," he swallowed when she looked down awkwardly. "You're kind of the only person I see anymore, Blondie."

"Hmm," she took another big bite and chewed it quickly. "I see you, and Cass, and the guys at the pub, but I like spending time with you the most."

"Oh, that's right," he perked up, and her eyes grew wide when he stood up as straight as he could, towering over her across the bench. "I have something to address with you, Blondie."

"What's that?" he noticed the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I'm not your type, huh?"

She threw her head back and laughed loudly, for way too long. "Well, I guess hearing that just serves you right for stalking me, Fitzherbert! It's not nice to follow people. Especially when they're angry at you."

"You're one to talk about stalking." He muttered. "No, but seriously. How could I _not_ be your type?! Look at me!"

"And _there's _the Flynn Rider we all know and love." She rolled her eyes and took another bite of toast, so big she wouldn't be contributing anything to the conversation for a while.

Eugene grinned at her, good with his confident mask, but needing to hear her praise all the same. "Blondie. If I'm not your type, we'd better end things here and now. I don't want you breaking my heart down the line for something I can't control."

Rapunzel swallowed her toast, wincing as it scratched her throat. Her heart raced at his words and she stood to carry her plate to the sink, brushing against him as she did so. "As you said, Eugene. How could you not be anyone's type?" she turned and leaned her back against the counter, looking up at him slyly. "And I'll still think of you as my best friend, whether I think you're hideous or not. That's not going to change anything for me."

His fingers twitched at her taunting, and he suddenly realised he hadn't kissed her since before he found out about her story. He'd attempted something last night, but they were both too cautious after the long and depressing speeches that they'd been wary around each other until falling asleep.

She was grinning at him, that little smirk that he knew she'd been practicing. Blondie was getting good at her awareness around men. He eventually decided to just go for it, and took the one step that placed him directly in front of her, securing her against the counter, leaving her with no where to go.

"Is that all I am to you, Blondie? A friend?"

"I was under the impression you didn't take on more than friends," she breathed nervously. "Don't you have some kind of no-girlfriends rule?"

"Yeah, I suppose I did," he agreed quietly, watching her with burning eyes. Her fingers were shaking on the counter behind her, and he traced his arm from them to her shoulder, under the sleeve of his shirt. "Before you showed up and turned my life upside down."

She met his lips gently, sighing against his face, the scent of toothpaste flooding his nostrils. He held her tightly by the shoulders, holding her still, his hips pressed into hers to trap her completely. He kissed her slowly, tasting her, smirking when her untrained lips slipped up and made a messy mistake. He again noted how his heart thumped against his chest, though he'd done this and so much more with hundreds of women in the past that hadn't had this affect on him. Blondie was something else.

Her hands finally left the counter and found their way around his neck, and he resisted groaning when she pushed herself up, onto her toes, brushing against his groin roughly. Their kisses became quicker and messier, and he pushed her more forcefully against the counter, until she was bending slightly backwards and he was leaning over her. He finally decided enough was enough and grabbed her hips, lifting her and seating her on the bench in front of him.

He grinned at her face, her emotions easy to read as they paused long enough to steal a look at each other. Her lips were parted, her breath hot and quick, and she stared down at his mouth, their faces perfectly aligned while she sat at this height.

She didn't answer his smile with one of her own, and a worrying thought struck him. "Are you okay?"

She nodded quickly, pulling him back toward her.

They'd kissed before, but never like this. He tasted her tongue, egging her on to push the boundaries and explore his mouth. She grabbed the hair at the back of his neck so tightly he winced, but didn't tell her it hurt. He didn't want to do or say anything that would put a stop to this.

When she rubbed herself against his hips, he groaned into her mouth, unable to help himself, and she stopped immediately, her shoulders turning forward as if she were protecting herself.

"Sorry!"

"Don't be," he gasped. He grabbed her and forced her mouth back to his, then left her lips to trail quick, messy kissed across her jaw and down her neck. Her collarbone was completely hidden from him by the neckline of his t-shirt, and he held himself back from sighing in frustration and scaring her again. Her hands were gripping his shoulders _so_ tightly, encouraging him to continue, and her breathing was so fast he would have been worried about her under other circumstances. He let his hands trail from her backside, along her thighs, pulling her against him as tightly as possible, rubbing back against her while her body responded naturally in return.

_The kitchen counter is not a good enough place for her first sexual experience._

Eugene stopped, standing up straight in front of her, pulling his hips from between her legs, his hands still braced on her thighs as he stared into her eyes. They were full of confusion and sexual frustration, and she opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it.

"Trust me?"

She nodded eagerly. "Yeah," she breathed heavily.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Blondie. If you get scared, tell me. I'll stop straight away."

"Okay," he could see the fear in her eyes, but he picked her up gently and carried her across the room, depositing her in the middle of his bed. She was so light, like he was only carrying half a person in his arms.

Her head rested on his pillow, her back to the bed, and he propped himself up on his left elbow, leaning toward her, his right hand rubbing comfortingly on her hip. He kissed her once again, easing her into it in their new position, and ever so slowly, allowed his hand to travel to her thighs, just at the hem of his t-shirt, easing it up, higher and higher, until he felt his underwear covering her. He hesitated, playing with the edge at her thigh, until her kisses were once again so desperate he couldn't deny her. He nudged her thighs apart with his hand, finally rubbing his finger tips against her, holding back his groan at the damp fabric he was met with.

She squeaked into his mouth, and he pulled his face from hers immediately, his hand still hovering above her, but no longer touching.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated quietly. "I promise."

"I know," she whispered back, then hesitated, glancing down toward his hand. "What should I do?"

"Just relax," he murmured. "I just want to watch you."

She nodded urgently, watching him closely as he lowered his hand once again, stroking her with a little more pressure.

She blinked erratically, still staring into his eyes, her lips parted as if she had something she wished to say, but couldn't form the words.

She eventually relaxed beside him, her eyes closing and opening with his movements, her breath in time with his hand, as if she was anticipating everything he did. When her hips began moving against his hand and small whimpers escaped her lips, he tugged at the waist band of his underwear, moving it slowly down her hips, over her thighs, down her calves and off her feet, dropping them to the floor behind him. Her nerves were back in her face, but he pushed a lock of hair away from her left cheek and gave her a comforting smile, letting her know without words that he wasn't going to look, just touch.

She saturated his hand as soon as he touched her, and he gritted his teeth to stop from reacting and freaking her out. Her lack of experience was so obvious it made him want to cry out with glee. He'd been with virgins before, but he'd never, _ever_ gotten a reaction like the one she was giving him. He used her liquid, coating his fingertips, moving them where he knew he'd have her undone in a matter of moments, his fingers circling her expertly, applying pressure and taking it away with her movements against him.

She was panting beside him, her eyes squeezed shut tightly, small yelps leading him on, telling him to continue. It only took thirty seconds or so, and she suddenly gripped his arm tightly, her fingernails digging into his forearm, forcing him to keep his hand exactly where it was as she rolled her hips against him firmly, her mouth opening wider and wider until she let out a long, loud gasping breath, her legs clenching and shaking on either side of his hand. He felt her pulse against his fingertips as he circled her; once, twice, three times, four times…he watched her face closely, strained through her orgasm, until her legs and expression relaxed slowly, her fingers releasing his arm and falling to her stomach, still covered by his shirt.

He grinned and pulled his hand from her gently, bending to kiss her lips. She kissed him back lazily, opening her eyes to offer him a small, nervous smile, though her entire face expressed how sleepy she was suddenly feeling.

"You're beautiful," was all he could manage to say.

"What was that?" she asked him in a whisper, as if there were others around who could hear her.

He chuckled. "Your anatomy books don't tell you about orgasms?"

"I've read about them," she yawned widely, her eyes slipping shut for a moment too long. "But it didn't say what they felt like. And I didn't know that they could happen from…that."

"What did it feel like?" he asked, genuinely curious. He'd asked girls before, but none of them had actually explained it to him. He knew Blondie would have more of an answer than anyone else he'd ever met.

"Like fire," she said immediately, readjusting her head on his pillow. "Like it was burning me, but not in a hot way. Maybe more like electricity. And it crept up on me, and suddenly it was there, and my whole lower body just ran away from me and did what it wanted, and I wondered if I would ever get it back. And then, like it crept up on me, it faded away." She chewed on her lip for a second. "And now my body doesn't want to move."

He chuckled, watching her as her eyes fell shut slowly. "Blondie," he said quietly. "Are you falling asleep on me?"

"Hmm," she nodded lazily, not opening her eyes. "I think I am."

"Well, I'll take that to mean 'job well done'," he snorted.

"Eugene," she breathed as he made to climb off the bed.

"Yeah?"

She frowned, opening her eyes just enough to stare him down. "I can feel my heartbeat in my vagina. Is that normal?"

He couldn't resist from laughing loudly this time. "Well, I've never had one," he told her gently. "But yeah, I think that's pretty normal."

"Okay," she yawned, rolling onto her side so her back was to him. He snuck a look at the creases on the top of her thighs, breathing deeply to attempt to bring himself back to earth. "Goodnight, Eugene,"

"Night, Blondie,"

* * *

**I've been thinking very hard about how to explain orgasms in preparation for this chapter. Apparently my face has been giving me away because the last few times my partner has asked me if I'm alright after. But this story is a secret in my personal life so I had no response :) **


	16. Chapter 16

**I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of your super kind reviews and favourites and follows! It makes me so happy to hear that people are enjoying this. It motivates me so much! I checked my emails and saw all of your lovely reviews and almost ran for my computer to get this up!**

* * *

She was still asleep when he got home from grocery shopping. The day outside was warm and dry, the wet reminders from the day before gone as quickly as they'd come.

Eugene opened the door quietly, smiling to himself when he caught sight of her, lying on her other side now, her legs tucked up gently, her toes pointed in her sleep.

He opened the couple of bags of groceries, sorting them on the bench before packing the food items away in the fridge and pantry. He figured he might as well keep her here for a home-cooked meal, though he didn't particularly like cooking. He knew Blondie did, and she'd probably take over the second she could.

He paused when he got to the last couple of items in the large bag.

A pink towel, and a toothbrush to match. He was well and truly done for.

He must have been too loud closing the fridge door, because she stirred, eventually opening her eyes just enough to watch him in the kitchen.

"Morning," he called to her.

She groaned and pushed herself up on her hands, blushing the brightest pink he'd ever seen her. "Sorry," she yawned widely. "I just got…so tired."

"I take it as a compliment." He said, leaning against the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't cross a line? That was okay?"

She laughed and covered her face, perhaps trying to hide her blush. "It was nice."

He grinned, turning away from her for no particular reason to look down at the counter. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," her voice was closer than he expected, though he hadn't heard her climb out of bed. He turned to see her standing awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. "Thank you,"

"For what?"

"For…_that_," she half-turned toward his bed, inclining her head to the mattress. "I didn't know it was like that."

"Yeah," he agreed easily. "It's good. There's a lot more to it than that, obviously, but we'll work our way up to it. Best to start small."

She nodded her head in agreement, casting her eyes to her bare feet. "Um…can I try it? On you?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted his most gentle smile. "If you want, Blondie. But you don't have to worry about me. I've had my fair share of _that_. I want to ease you into it, until you're feeling comfortable."

"I feel comfortable," she lied. "I mean, I feel comfortable with you. I just…I don't really understand it all yet, but I wouldn't want to be doing it with anyone else. And I want to return the favour."

"Okay," he agreed. He felt his heartbeat race at her words and a small voice in his head told him to take her up on her offer. But there was something about the anticipation buzzing in the air between the two of them that was so delicious, he didn't want it to be over so quickly. "But we don't need to do it right now, okay? We can wait. Have some lunch. We can go out and do something this afternoon if you want to."

"I should probably go home. I used my finger to brush my teeth this morning…"

"Oh, yeah," he grabbed the shopping bag on the counter and handed it to her. "I know yellow's your favourite colour, but they only had pink."

She peered into the bag, her face showing more emotion than need be at the small action he'd made. "Eugene," she sighed. "You didn't have to do this."

"Ah, don't worry about it," he waved her off. "Now we don't have to use the same towel. And you can re-brush your teeth with your new toothbrush, if you really feel like you need to."

"And I can leave them here?"

That very simple sentence would have scared him to death a couple of months ago, but now he took a deep breath and managed a smile. "Yeah, that's what they're for."

"That's really nice. Thank you,"

* * *

They decided to watch a sitcom with way too many seasons. It wasn't something they had to pay attention to, but Blondie seemed to enjoy the writer's sense of humour, and she laughed at almost every joke.

Her clothes were now drying on the small clotheshorse on his balcony, the dry Corona air doing its work well. She'd decided she wouldn't be changing back into them, however. She just wanted to stay inside and have a quiet day. She said her brain had been working overtime recently and she just wanted to enjoy his company.

She had complained about putting the same pair of Eugene's underwear back on, saying they were wet and uncomfortable, and he'd tried not to laugh at her innocent way of stating the obvious. He'd offered her another pair, throwing the first in his tiny laundry.

He was surprised at how comforting it was having her here. He honestly didn't want her to go home, but he knew she would have to at some point. And he definitely wasn't ready to ask her to move in or anything. It was going to take some time to think of himself as being in a relationship.

Blondie took full control of cooking dinner, as he knew she would. She let him help chop vegetables, and turn on the oven, but that was about all. He sat at the counter and watched her move around the kitchen like it was her own, doing things without questioning her recipe. He offered to help multiple times, but she told him to relax. Though that was difficult when she reached into the higher shelves of the cupboard, or bent at the hips to dig through his saucepan drawer, giving him the best view she could have managed.

When she was finished, she sat at the counter beside him, grinning up at him like she knew she'd done a good job. "I hope you like it!"

"It looks amazing Blondie, thank you."

And it was delicious, of course. He wondered if she'd done anything but cook, locked up in that little house for eighteen years. Then he realised he was allowed to ask those kind of questions now, so he did.

Rapunzel put a fork full of food into her mouth, thinking about his question. Her eyes were a little guarded, but not defensive, and he knew that was a good thing. Every time she spoke about people knowing or treating her differently she would act as though they'd personally offended her in the worst way, and that wasn't what he was trying to do.

"I used to do a lot of sewing," she told him slowly. "I really like sewing. I've been thinking of buying a sewing machine with the money I have saved up, but I don't know. That used to take a lot of time out of my day, though. Sometimes my mother would go away for days at a time, and I would have to be quiet and pretend I wasn't home. She said ruffians were looking for me, and they would take me if they knew I was home alone. So on those days I did a lot of reading. I had a good book on plants, and another one on cooking, so I liked to cook. I always asked her if I could have books with stories in them, like she ones she had in her bedroom, but she said they were dangerous to the mind, and I was too innocent for them. Cass said that's a load of crap."

"Did you have any pets?"

"No," she laughed sadly. "No, it was just me. I found a lizard who had crept into our kitchen and managed to keep him for a few days, but she found him sunbaking on my windowsill and got really angry at me. She said animals bring disease into houses, and I was lucky I hadn't caught anything.

"I asked her for a dog, or even a bird, just about every birthday but she said I wouldn't be able to handle it."

Eugene was starting to feel his hands shake out of anger toward the woman he would never be able to confront, but he kept her talking anyway. "What about your birthdays? What would you do for them?"

"She'd usually buy me paint, or fabric, or beads. That would keep me busy for a long time. My room was just paintings, all over, all colours. If there was only a square inch left without something painted on it, I would get to it. I covered them! And when they were finished, I'd change them. The walls were all lumpy from the years of paint built up, but I loved them. I loved the colours. Houses outside don't have that.

"I sat at my window and watched the stars exploding every single year. I found out when I left that they're fireworks, and they do it for the Corona festival, but I thought it was for me and my birthday. My mother told me it meant the gods were angry with me for the year past, and if I was good for the next year it wouldn't happen again, but I knew nothing so beautiful could be caused by a bad thing. I asked her if she would take me for my eighteenth birthday, and she got so angry I hid for a couple of days. And then she died."

"How did she die?" Eugene asked quietly. Blondie was still looking at her food, stabbing her fork into it more aggressively than need be. She didn't seem emotionally fragile at all, and he told himself if she did at any point he would stop with his questions.

"She died because of me," she murmured. "She was screaming for a long time, and calling out for me, and I was hiding. I didn't go to her. I didn't know if she was really suffering, or if she just wanted me to come to her so she could get angry with me again. I loved her so much, but I was scared of her most of the time. She used to call me ugly, or chubby, and told me that I'd never be able to take care of myself, and I believed her completely. I knew I needed her or I wouldn't be able to survive. But I also didn't like the way she treated me like I was stupid, because I'm not. And sometimes she would get really violent over nothing, and I didn't know how to make her stop.

"When I woke up the day after my birthday and she was quiet I thought she'd just calmed down. She didn't sleep much. I avoided her bedroom. But then it was time for dinner, and she still hadn't come out, and I knocked on her door and didn't get a reply. I usually wasn't allowed in her room, so I didn't try to go in. The next morning when she still wasn't answering me, I wondered if she'd gone somewhere. I opened the door to see, and I smelled –" she stopped suddenly, swallowing thickly. "The smell was so bad, Eugene. She'd been in there for a long time, and I didn't know what to do, so I wrote the mail man a letter and pushed it under the door for him to find."

"Blondie," he sighed heavily, pushing around a couple of vegetables with his fork. "She did not die because of you."

She didn't look convinced as she stared back at him, giant tears welling in her eyes. He continued, as gently as he could.

"I know you loved her. I can tell. As much as she scared you, and even with all of the terrible things she did to you, you thought of her as a mother and now she's gone, and that must be terrifying. But you didn't cause her death." Rapunzel opened her mouth to disagree, and Eugene hurried to stop her. "I'm not saying maybe it could have been prevented if you'd gone to her, but what would you have done? You didn't know how to drive her to a hospital, or find someone to help. And if she was still alive and well today, where would you be? Still in your little house, waiting to get out. Her life ended, and yours began. And that's it. It's your turn to do what you want."

Her tears fell out of her eyes, but she looked at him with appreciation for his words. "I'm so, so happy Eugene. And that makes me feel worse than anything, because I _did_ love her! But I can't imagine going back there again. I never want to feel like I'm stuck in a place ever again."

"You won't be," he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "Don't you ever do anything or go anywhere you don't feel comfortable with. You're allowed to tell people how you feel."

"Thank you," she took her hand back and put the biggest spoonful of potato and meat into her mouth, chewing on it slowly, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk in a cartoon.

They were quiet after dinner. Eugene insisted on washing up, and Rapunzel stood at his side, wiping plates and cooking utensils, glancing at him often and watching his hands in the soapy water. When Eugene put on a movie Rapunzel curled up beside him, bringing one of his Flynnigan Rider books with her and opening it to the first page. She read silently while he watched television, her knees folded into him and his arm resting casually behind her.

She was about one hundred pages in when the movie ended and Eugene yawned widely, turning the television off and looking down at her. She was in the middle of a sword fight he could have recited word for word. She didn't seem to notice the silence until he shifted, and she looked up, her eyes wide.

"What time is it?"

"Sleep time," he yawned again. "Did you want to stay up and read for a while longer?"

"No," she smiled and closed the book, not marking the page in any way. "No, I'm tired."

"Why do days spent doing nothing always take it out of you?" Eugene sighed, pushing himself off the couch and stretching. "I hope you'd planned on staying here tonight. I don't know if I'd make it back from walking you home."

"I was hoping I could," she looked shy as she stood. "I need to test out my new toothbrush and all."

"Ah, yes," he agreed. "It is difficult to find a good one."

She laughed too loudly at his joke, bounding from her spot to grab the towel and toothbrush that still sat on the kitchen counter.

They stole looks at each other in the mirror while they brushed their teeth, grinning when they were caught out by one another. Rapunzel washed her face quickly, her short dark hair sticking to her skin until she rubbed it dry with her new towel. She looked to be hovering awkwardly around saying something, but he didn't push her to speak. Eventually she seemed to find the courage, and blurted it out before she could stop herself.

"Cass said the first time you see someone naked is in the shower."

"What?" he tried not to laugh, glancing toward the shower in confusion. How the hell would _Cass_ even know? "How did that come up in conversation?"

"I asked if she'd ever seen anyone naked, and she said she had. And that it usually happens the first time in the shower."

"I didn't know there were rules about that." He mused. Apparently Cass wasn't as much a stuck-up prude as he originally thought. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone naked in the shower."

"But you've seen girls naked before."

"Uh, yeah…"

_"Lots_ of girls," she didn't seem to be confronting him in any way, just stating a fact as if it were about the weather.

"I guess so, yeah,"

"In your bed?"

"Or theirs."

"Hmm," she pursed her lips, looking toward the shower thoughtfully. "Do you want to see me naked? Because I know that everyone looks different, and you've probably been with girls that are as beautiful as you are, and I don't want you to be disappointed with me. My mother said my boobs were too small and I was chubby, and I—"

"Blondie, I would absolutely love to see you naked." He said honestly. "Trust me. And if you want that to happen in the shower, we can do that. But you don't have to plan these things. We can just take them as they come."

"Yeah," she gave him a relieved smile. "I want to see you naked, too."

"Awesome," he was screaming at himself to start running the water, but his nerves had come back and he didn't want to push her into something when he'd just given her a speech about doing things for herself. "Well we'll have to work on doing that sometime."

She followed him out of the bathroom like a puppy, jumping into bed and tucking herself under the sheets. "I'm not going to tell Cass you got in my pants today."

"Probably for the best," he agreed. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"She doesn't like Flynn very much." Rapunzel told him. "But now I can tell her all about my friend Eugene, and she won't have any reservations."

"You're too tricky for your own good,"

She giggled, falling onto the pillow behind her and raising her hand to his face. "Your nose is pretty."

* * *

He woke groggy in the morning. Blondie was still beside him, but sitting up, The Tales of Flynnigan Rider tucked in her lap. She was almost finished, and he wondered how long she'd been up.

"Good morning," she chirped, not looking up from her book.

"Morning," he yawned. "What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty," she said immediately. "I had to leave soon. I'm working the lunch shift today." She sighed and closed the book, suddenly looking miserable. "I hate my job."

"Lunch shift isn't bad, though. You'll get in and out quickly."

"Yeah, it's only four hours," she agreed. "I can walk back by myself. You still look tired."

He grimaced, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt. "I haven't slept well the last couple of weeks, to be honest."

"Because of me."

"It wasn't your fault." He sighed.

She jumped out of his bed before he could say anything else and took off toward the bathroom, disappearing from sight. He could hear her brushing her teeth. She came out just long enough to grab her dry clothes from his balcony.

Eugene sighed again, rubbing his face roughly. He didn't want her to go. He was going to have to check in on Frank today, and with the bookstore still closed he was going to have to try to find something to keep him entertained.

She appeared again, dressed in her baggy clothes with her hair still messy from bed. She grinned down at him still resting on his pillow, and shook her head when he made to get up. "I told you, you're not walking me home. I'll feel bad if you go all the way there and come all the way back."

"What about the ruffians?"

She snorted. "I'm tough," there was an awkward air about them while they considered saying goodbye. She bent quickly and kissed him once, softly, on the lips. "See you, Eugene."

"Rapunzel," she was already on her way to the door, but she stopped and turned in her place, looking at him curiously. "Can I take you out for dinner tonight?"

"Dinner?" she repeated, her eyes wide. "A date?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Her answering smile was so wide she could have blinded him. "Yeah. That would be really nice."

"I'll pick you up from your place at seven?"

"Six-thirty," she told him. "I'll wear something nice."

She crossed the rest of the room and closed the door behind her, throwing him one more excited look over her shoulder before she was hidden from view.


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm really, really sorry. I've had a lot going on and I'm not here to bore you with the details or make excuses, but I just couldn't seem to find the time to write, and even if I had, I don't think anything would have come out of me.**

**Things are starting to slow down now and my fingers are just pouring out words into my laptop, so I would say I'll be back within the week with another chapter, and once April hits I should go back to my old uploading habits and be smashing them out a lot quicker!  
**

**I want to say a huge, huge thank you so all of the follows and favourites and lovely reviews I received since posting the last chapter! It meant the entire world to me! You are all so kind and I feel completely undeserving! I hope you enjoy what I have in store for these guys in future chapters. 3**

* * *

Rapunzel rolled her eyes when Sally told her to leave the cash registers to make sandwiches. She was already serving at least three people to every one the other girl was, but apparently that wasn't good enough. Not to mention the new girl had zero customer service. But she was the niece of one of the women who had worked here for a decade or more, and _she_ hadn't been hidden away for eighteen years, so they were going to like her heaps better just based off that.

Rapunzel shouldn't have put in so much effort. She was taken for granted and they insinuated constantly that she wasn't good enough. She was a hard worker, and she wanted a job that she enjoyed with people she liked being around. And these people had their minds made up about her before she'd walked through the door.

She sighed heavily, loud enough for the woman beside her to notice, but she didn't pry. Rapunzel kicked herself for being so moody. It wasn't like her to be so negative about people, but she couldn't seem to help it in this place. She wondered if being out in the world was changing her for the worse.

She counted down the last hour of her shift, trying not to glance at the clock too often. It seemed not to be moving as quickly as it should have been. The boys from the construction site down the road talked to her like she was an old friend, calling her by name, asking what her preferences for the day were. She knew Jordan, the youngest-looking of all of them, had something like a crush on her, but she wasn't interested. He was a nice boy, but he didn't make her all nervous and clumsy like Eugene did. And she liked feeling that way.

When two o'clock hit, she grabbed her bag without saying anything. Usually she would stay and ask the manager if there was anything she could do before she left, but she was just ready to get out of the shop. She said goodbye quietly to the others as she passed them, deep in a conversation now that the lunch rush had left, and kept her head down as she exited, the sun immediately heating her skin and her hair.

She still had four-and-a-half hours until she and Eugene would be going on their date. Which was fine, because she was determined to make herself beautiful for him. She didn't know what kind of plans he had, but whether it was something quiet and simple or he went all out and took her somewhere fancy, she wanted him to be happy to be seen with her.

There was a small pharmacy on the walk back to her home, so she walked in, trying not to think twice about it incase her anxiety crept up on her. She didn't know what she was doing. The people inside were mostly elderly ladies, and she wondered about asking one of them to help, but scared herself into keeping quiet and browsing the makeup aisle, trying to make sense of all the brief descriptions on the products.

"Could I help you with anything, or were you alright just looking?"

The girl in front of her wore a pink shirt, a part of the uniform, and smiled at her in an honestly friendly way. She was pretty. She had straight red hair and freckles, heaps more than Rapunzel had. They covered her entire face and collarbone and arms, dark in patches. Rapunzel studied them interestedly, itching to paint her in watercolour. The girl's lips were a bright fuchsia, and Rapunzel stared at them, intrigued.

"Um…I'm going on a date tonight, and I don't wear makeup, but I want to try. Just for tonight. Something simple. But I don't know what I need to get, or what the best things are."

"Oh, okay," she looked eager to help, and Rapunzel smiled at her energy. Why couldn't she work with people like this? "Well, you have really nice skin, so you probably don't need to be looking at foundations or anything. Stay natural; guys seem to like that. I'd recommend some mascara. Your eyelashes are really thick, but that will just make them stand out more…" she scanned the shelves in front of her with her lips pursed, pulling a small tube out. It was in black and white packaging, and Rapunzel wondered what made it different to the pink one beside it. "And I can't go anywhere without wearing blush, this one is my favourite. And lips! Did you want to wear a colour on your lips?"

"Yeah," Rapunzel decided. "I like the colour you have on."

"It's fun, isn't it?" the girl grinned, still professional. She walked a few feet from Rapunzel, grabbing another tube and holding it up. "This is the one I have on. There are other colours if you want to have a look."

"I'll just get that one," she didn't want to overwhelm herself, and she tended to lean toward brighter colours in all circumstances, anyway.

She followed the store assistant to the counter, watching as she scanned them and sat them back down on the bench in front of her. Rapunzel paid as the girl asked her where she was going for their date, and Rapunzel told her she wasn't sure. The girl insisted Eugene must have been romantic if he was keeping it a secret. Rapunzel hadn't thought about Eugene being romantic before, but she figured he had seemed a bit more inclined to that sort of thing than usual the last couple of days.

She felt a little braver when she continued her walk home. Her feet were moving faster, and her head was held up just a little higher. She smiled back at Coronians as they passed her, offering her greetings for her afternoon.

The Snuggly Duckling caught her attention as she neared home, and she chewed on her lip. She didn't know if anyone would even be there at this time, but she crossed the street anyway and pushed the door open, relieved when it moved. Hookhand, as Eugene called him, was seated on the other side of the bar, in a deep conversation with Tor. Big Nose was nowhere to be seen, and Rapunzel felt herself deflate a little. He was specifically who she'd been seeking.

"Blondie," Hookhand greeted her, having picked up Eugene's nickname for her. "What are you doing her so early? The other guys won't be here for a couple of hours, if you wanted to come back."

"I can't tonight," she said happily. "I have a date! I just wanted to tell Big Nose! But he's not here, so can you tell him for me? I know he'd be excited for me."

Hookhand didn't look overly excited himself. "Who is he? Tell him if he does anything to hurt you, I'll break his legs."

Rapunzel hesitated, wondering whether to tell them who it was she was going out with. She decided they would find out soon enough anyway. "I'm going out with Flynn. We made up. He told me all of his secrets, and his real name is actually Eugene."

Hookhand laughed loudly, and Rapunzel knew at once it wasn't because of the way she spoke or the things she said. He accepted her. All of the guys did here, and that's what she loved about the place. Tor lifted his head menacingly. "He's not good enough for you."

"You would say that about anybody."

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean it's not true."

She smiled widely at them. "Thank you for caring. If I go missing or something, you know who to go after."

A familiar head of short, black hair was waiting inside the housing building when she walked in. Rapunzel gritted her teeth, her confidence suddenly wavering when her nerves kicked in.

"Raps! Where have you been?!" Cass moved forward quickly, holding onto her shoulder tightly. "I came yesterday afternoon, and you never showed! I waited for ages! And when you still weren't here this morning, I started to panic. I tried calling you, Rapunzel!"

"Oh," Rapunzel shifted her small backpack, holding her phone that had died the first night she'd gone to Eugene's. "I'm sorry, Cass. I was with a friend, and then I had to work, and then I stopped by the Snuggly Ducking on my way home."

"And went shopping," Cass noted, glancing down at the pink bag in her friend's hand. "What do you mean you were with a friend? For how long? And _what_ friend?"

Cass was more than aware of Rapunzel's situation with Flynn Rider. She had been at the home when Rapunzel had returned from the hairdressing salon, her tears dry on her face, leaving it feeling stiff and salty. She'd comforted her, but not the way Rapunzel had wanted, telling her he was always set out to hurt her and not to waste her time with him anymore. Telling her he was the worst kind of person, and Rapunzel shouldn't associate with him any longer.

"Um…" just being honest wouldn't hurt? "His name is Eugene. And he asked me on a date tonight."

Cass' mouth fell open with surprise. "Eugene? That's a nice name."

"Mm-hm," Rapunzel felt a little bad tricking her friend when Cassandra had always been so nice to her, but she knew she'd never hear the end of it if she explained the entire situation. "He's really nice to me. I don't know where we're going, but I stopped and bought makeup so I could look good for him."

"Oh, wow," Cass' grin was starting to sneak onto her face. Rapunzel wondered whether she was just happy that her friend wouldn't be pining for a criminal anymore. "Good for you, Raps! I'm proud of you,"

"Thanks," Rapunzel giggled nervously. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'll figure it out."

"Well, what time is he coming? I could help you get ready, if you want. I have dinner with my father at six, but I'm free until then."

_Perfect._ Cass would be out of her hair long before Eugene came to pick her up. Rapunzel grinned widely at her girlfriend, accepting her proposal to help immediately. Cass had always worn eye makeup each time Rapunzel had ever seen her, so she could be trusted. Heck, Hookhand would probably know what to do over Rapunzel.

Cass was finished with all of her work for the day, so she followed Rapunzel up to room 14 immediately, telling her again how worried she'd been about not being able to get in touch with her. Rapunzel apologised over and over again. She should have thought about Cassandra. Her friend was always a little overprotective, to the point where she occasionally threatened to get on Rapunzel's nerves. But the brunette knew her friend was coming from a good place and would always have her back.

They both decided on the same dress for dinner – yellow, with large white flowers printed onto it. It was a similar style to the rest of her dresses; a figure-hugging bodice and a skirt that flared and fell to just below Rapunzel's knees. She was still wearing her navy bra, and she smirked as Cass zipped her in to the dress, thinking of how Eugene's eyes always travelled when she wore this bra with her sundresses. She would normally have felt uncomfortably on show, but something about having him beside her while they were out in the world made her confidence peak, and made her feel better about herself in general.

Cass told her all about some trouble she'd been having with a young mother who kept insisting on leaving the home to go back to her abusive partner, and Rapunzel offered sympathy and advice where she could, stunned a little that, for the first time, Cass was speaking to her like they were equals, and not like she had to mind what came out of her mouth.

Cassandra unwrapped the mascara from its packaging, grinning excitedly at Rapunzel as she leaned forward and brushed it gently against her lashes. "So…tell me about this Eugene. How did you guys meet?"

"Well," Rapunzel chuckled awkwardly, thinking over how to word this. "I met him while he was working."

"Where does he work?"

Cass didn't need to know he'd had two different jobs Rapunzel had seen him in. "He works in a bookstore. I've bought books from him before."

"Ah, that's nice Raps. You'll have heaps to talk about if you're both into reading. What does he look like?"

"He's quite tall…he has nice forearms. Brown hair, brown eyes…" she chewed on her lip, trying not to blink as Cassandra finished coating her eyelashes. "His eyes look yellow in the sun. They're really nice."

Cass scoffed, pulling back to roll her eyes. "Listen to you. I haven't even heard about this Eugene guy, and you seem to be infatuated with him already."

"Yeah," Rapunzel sighed hopelessly. "He's pretty great."

"Well, as long as he's good to you. I mean, anything would be an improvement over that Rider. I'm just glad there's someone else around to distract you."

She must have taken Rapunzel's awkward silence as sadness, because she sighed and screwed the mascara wand back into its tube. "Raps, I know you cared about him. But he wasn't a good guy, and the sooner you saw that, the better. I don't know what exactly it was he did to you, but I'm honestly glad he did it. Getting as far from him as possible is the best thing you could do for yourself."

"Hm," Rapunzel managed a tiny, nervous giggle, shrugging her shoulders once. Cass accepted it, and before she could ask any more questions about Eugene, Rapunzel opened her mouth to inform her of her last police appointment.

"Max found my parents."

Cass seemed stunned, her mouth half-open and her grey eyes wide as she stared at her friend, waiting for more information. "What?! Raps, that's amazing!"

"Yeah," Rapunzel said quietly. "I think I have to meet them. Eugene said they would still be waiting for me, after all this time, and I guess they deserve to see me again. But I'm scared, and I don't know what I want to do. I'm still thinking about it."

"Well, I'm sure they're amazing. And if you feel like you need someone to be there with you while you meet them, you just have to ask. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Thanks, Cass,"

Cassandra seemed to hang around when Rapunzel was happy with her makeup. For once, it seemed as though she was truly there just to be with her friend, but it couldn't have come at a worse time for Rapunzel. She glanced at the small clock on the wall constantly, hoping Eugene didn't turn up early. She felt bad for keeping the truth from her friend, but she knew Cass wouldn't be open to understanding at this point in time. She was quick to jump to conclusions, and sometimes seemed a little overprotective of Rapunzel, which the young brunette didn't know whether she liked or not. It was nice feeling as though someone cared, but she occasionally felt a little claustrophobic.

Cass laughed about being late for dinner as she was leaving and Rapunzel tried her hardest not to seem too distracted, walking her downstairs and waving as she left. Half an hour until Eugene was due to arrive. She tugged at the ends of her hair nervously, pulling at the choppy strands a little too roughly. What if he laughed at her for wearing lipstick? What if she didn't suit it, and he thought was trying too hard?

She went back to her room, standing in front of the tiny bathroom mirror and staring at herself, trying to find fault in her appearance. There were a lot of things she was self-conscious about; things her mother had teased her over while she was growing up. She'd wished to get rid of her freckles, and fix her teeth so the two at the front didn't sit lower. Her mother had said her top lip was too full for the bottom. But it had been a long time since anyone had been nasty about her appearance, and Rapunzel was beginning to think she kind of liked how she looked.

When their planned meeting time was fifteen minutes away, she sat on the old couch and started checking her phone constantly, just incase she'd hit something to get rid of a call or message that he'd left to tell her he was outside. Was she even supposed to meet him outside? Was he coming to her room? Was he nervous for no good reason as well? She could have laughed at herself. She spent more time with this man than anyone, and just because the word "date" had been used, her stomach seemed to be crawling with insects that she couldn't calm down.

She wondered if she should put a bag together incase she stayed at his house. But she didn't want to seem presumptuous, so she decided against it. She would stay if he asked her. Maybe he was getting tired of her staying over. She couldn't really ask him to stay at her house, because she just had a tiny single bed and one pillow, and imagine if Cass showed up first thing in the morning and caught them together.

It was 6:32 when he knocked on her door. She bounded from the lounge, pulling it open with a nervous smile.

"Whoa! Blondie, look at you!" he grinned widely. "You didn't have to do all that for me, you know."

"I wanted to look nice,"

"Job well done," he cleared his throat.

Rapunzel had never seen him in a button-up shirt before, except for the super dressy white shirt he'd been wearing after the funeral. This one was dark blue, and he wore light brown pants that matched really nicely. His shoes were brown leather. He followed her eyes down to her own feet.

"Nice shoes,"

"Thanks," she smiled widely. "I haven't worn them before."

"I never thought I'd see you in a pair, to be honest," he seemed to be holding himself together a lot better than she was.

_Of course he is! He's probably been on a thousand dates! And with tall skinny people like Bec. Why would he be nervous about tonight?_

The silence hung between them for a moment, and he took a step back, into the hall. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," she breathed. He hadn't asked her about staying at his house, and she was too scared he would decline if she said anything, so she locked the door behind them, putting the key in the small brown leather bag she wore over her shoulder.

He took her hand on the way down the stairs, giving her a comforting squeeze, and she smiled, watching their feet, thinking about how anyone who would see them would think of them as two regular people, on a regular night out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Yay! I'm back already! I didn't let myself get any work done today and just let the words pour out of me. I'm just so in love with these two, I'm basically living through them at this point.**

**I also want to say thank you, as always, for your lovely reviews! I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're all out there enjoying this story, and the fact that you take the time to leave me a note saying so is just such a thoughtful thing I can't keep away from my laptop!**

**And a quick note to tell you that someone we all know and love so, so much will be entering this story soon and I'm so excited!**

**The next chapter has already been started, and I'll have it up as soon as I'm happy with it!**

* * *

Her anxiety slipped away as they drove, while it was just her with Eugene, as normal. He asked her about work, and she told him she was sick of the place. She was going to be super brave and start job hunting. She told him about the nice girl in the pharmacy who had helped her pick makeup out, and asked if he liked the colour of her lipstick. He told her it suited her, but it was going to look terrible on him. It took her a second to figure out what he was saying, and then she blushed furiously, because apparently using the "date" word made everything a lot more nerve-wracking than usual.

They were driving out of Corona central, away from the lights and busy streets she'd grown to love. She thought the house she'd grown up in was in this direction, but she'd only taken the road once when they'd found her, and she couldn't be sure. The roads became longer and straighter and Eugene's car went faster along with a few other people out for a night time drive.

"I haven't been to this restaurant before, but I've heard it's really good. And it's only a twenty minute drive or so from your house, so I won't have you home too late."

"I don't care if we stay out forever," she said honestly. She saw a smile quirk his lips, but he didn't say anything further.

There were a couple of streets of stores and restaurants, like a smaller version of the town they'd left behind. Eugene parked the car in a dark corner of the block and took her hand once they'd exited. He squeezed it reassuringly at the look on her face.

"Hey, you okay?"

"I've never been on a date before," she said quietly.

"I figured," he chuckled. He tugged her in the direction of a small, dark building with hundreds of yellowy lights strung around the walls and roof. "Me either,"

"What?!"

He looked down at her, his face serious. "I've never been on a date before."

_"You?"_ she would have trusted anything he had to say, but that just seemed a little unbelievable.

He shrugged, "I didn't really do the whole date thing. I wasn't looking for anything longer-term than a night with anyone."

"Huh," his words flared up nerves in her stomach again. "And now you are," she stated shyly.

"Yeah," he chuckled, for the first time seeming a little uneasy. He'd been good at being Flynn Rider for years, and the confident wall he put up was more than Rapunzel could ever hope to manage. "I want to keep you around, Blondie."

It wasn't overly busy inside. The light was dull, just more yellow lights in giant bulbs hanging from the ceiling in no set order. The tables were made of dark wood, and thick and heavy. There were small glasses with Corona's native flowers sitting in the middle of each, with two menus and two empty glasses.

The front desk was cluttered with antique-looking knick-knacks, and a girl in a bright red sundress and navy apron smiled at them as they approached. She didn't look at Rapunzel as though she wasn't good enough to be there, which was refreshing. She didn't really look at her at all, to be honest – her eyes ghosted over her in greeting, and went to Eugene when he spoke.

"Just a table for two, please."

She took them to a table under a huge painting of three men sitting in a bar, filled up their glasses with water and said she would give them a moment to decide what they were having.

Rapunzel watched her as she departed, leaning across the table. "She has a really nice bum,"

Eugene laughed once, his glass held to his lips. "Remind me to have a look next time."

They spoke easily as normal. Eugene watched her intently while she spoke, and Rapunzel realised that was something he never used to do. She decided he had really nice nostrils. She'd always liked his nose, and she knew that was what he thought of as his best feature, but his nostrils in particular were also wonderful. She wanted to tell him that, but he was currently speaking about work, so she would wait until later.

She also decided she loved his teeth. He laughed once, loudly, at something she'd said, and she stared at them until his lips sealed shut again. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen – not that she'd seen a lot of them. She liked the tiny lines on his forehead, and the ones on the outsides of his eyes. She watched him laugh properly for the first time ever, and he scrunched his nose as he did, and her fingers twitched. A wave of something rolled through her, making her feel all warm and taking strength out of her arms and legs for a moment, and she wanted to reach forward and just touch him, hold him really tightly, but she didn't.

The waitress came back and asked what they were having to eat and drink. Rapunzel said she wanted to order a fun drink, and the waitress recommended something fruity with mint, and Rapunzel accepted. Eugene got a beer he'd never heard of. Apparently they brewed them all on site. Rapunzel wanted to ask what went into brewing, but she ordered salmon instead and the girl left before she could question her. This time, both watched her leave.

"See?"

"It _is _a nice bum," Eugene agreed. "Yours is better, though,"

Rapunzel resisted bursting into nervous laughter. "You're just saying that to be nice,"

"No, I'm really not,"

"You've never actually seen it." She ignored the small voice that told her to be quiet inside her head. This was new, scary territory, but it was also delicious, and she wanted to play with it.

"Well, to be fair, I've never actually seen hers either," he nodded toward the waitress, who was now behind the bar speaking to another young couple. "But I've seen enough of yours. It's very grabable."

_"Grabable!" _she laughed, way too loudly, and an older woman with short blonde hair threw her a humoured look. She calmed down quickly and looked across the table at him with wide eyes. "Eugene," she said seriously. "Do you want to grab my bum?"

"I'd love to, Blondie."

"I think I want you to, as well." Rapunzel said honestly. "Just so you know."

The food was delicious, as was her drink. She finished it quickly, and Eugene suggested water might be safer for the remainder of the night. It only tasted like sugar, but apparently it was more alcohol than she'd had in any drink before. She remembered that horrible feeling from being sick at the Snuggly Duckling, and figured he was right. She didn't want to be throwing up in front of him tonight. She was really hoping he'd grab her bum.

Eugene made to pay when they were getting ready to leave, and Rapunzel asked if she could pay for her half. She'd brought money specifically so he wouldn't have to.

"This is my first date," he reminded her. "Let me be a gentleman."

She thanked the waitress and told her she had a nice bum. The waitress thanked her genuinely, and Eugene grabbed her hand, smiling to himself, pulling her from the building. The night was quiet as they waked back to his car, completely dark now, the restaurant throwing a glow of yellow to everything around them. It was dark closer to his car, something that would have scared Rapunzel had she been with anyone else. But she was with Eugene, who she thought of as a security blanket. She knew without doubt he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.

"Did you have a nice night?"

"I did, thank you," she smiled. "But…do you not like the way that I kiss? Because you haven't kissed me tonight, and I thought you would have."

He stopped for a second, and then the world span around her as he grabbed her hips and turned her, pressing her back into the brick wall of the dark mechanic store he'd parked in front of.

Without saying anything, he bent to press his lips against hers, not gentle, his hands holding her hips hard as he pushed himself against her.

She was too surprised to tell her arms to move, so they stayed straight by her side, not remembering how to react. Her legs drained of all their energy, and she wondered if she was purely being held up by Eugene and the bricks behind her. She attempted to kiss him back with the speed and skill he devoured her with, but she mostly felt messy and overwhelmed. It didn't seem to deter him. Her heart pounded hard in her chest and the butterflies were back in her stomach, bad. She felt her lower abdominal muscles twitch so anxiously it was almost painful.

And then, he was gone. He let out a long breath as he stared down at her, standing an arm's distance from her. Rapunzel wondered how she looked as she stared back at him, unable to figure out what expression was on her face but aware her lips were parted and she was gasping through them.

"Are you ready to go?" he seemed completely composed, but his eyes were dark, as though he were thinking very hard over something.

"Yeah,"

They didn't say much as he drove her back to his house. She thanked him for dinner multiple times. They stopped at a set of traffic lights right before the long bridge that took them to the island, the main section of Corona. Eugene reached over without looking when the car was braked and took her hand gently, holding it as though she were made of paper while his thumb traced lines back and forth along her knuckles. She watched her hand in his for a long time, but neither of them spoke.

The drive back seemed a lot quicker than the drive out earlier. He slowed early, completely silent as he ghosted up the road and stopped quietly, right in front of the glass doors at the entrance.

Rapunzel hesitated, staring up at the building as though it wasn't her home. She'd just had one of the best nights of her life, and now she had to go upstairs and sleep in her tiny bed without him. She wasn't ready for him to go away yet.

Almost as if he was reading her thoughts, Eugene's voice sounded over her shoulder.

"Come back to my place?"

She turned in her seat to give him a small smile.

"Only if you want to, I know you haven't been home much. But I'm still off work for a while, so we'll have the entire day to do whatever you want tomorrow. And I'm kind of getting used to having you around."

"I'll go grab some things,"

He smiled at her, and she wondered if she saw relief. She wasn't exactly used to Eugene yet. Flynn still stood guard a lot of the time to hold his emotions from her, but she liked the tiny appearances every now and then, even if they were few and far between.

He waited in the car while she ran upstairs. She grabbed the biggest bag she had – just a soft cloth thing with long straps she could throw over her shoulder – and threw in a few pairs of underwear, just in case it was a couple of days until she was home again. She packed two dresses, kicked off her shoes and stuffed them into the bag as well, and her work clothes, just in case. She remembered her phone charger, for if Cass got overly worried again.

The thought of her own towel and toothbrush waiting for her at Eugene's house made her smile, and she locked the door behind her as quickly as she could and skipped down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator's slow doors and slower speed down two floors.

His car was still hovering where she'd left it, and she opened the door and threw her bag in, jumping in after it and resting her feet on top of the zipper.

"Ready!"

He eyed her bag for a moment, and she wondered if she'd scared him off, but a smirk twisted the side of his lip and he pulled away from the curb without saying anything.

Again, he took her hand while they drove. She squeezed it back happily this time, and played with the radio until she found music that sounded earthy and relaxing, leaning back in the seat and looking up at the stars through his windows.

His home was dark when they left the car and started their walk to the staircase, but the lights from the signs in the street reflected off the walls and windows and lit it up. Rapunzel realised she thought of this place as home drastically more than her own, and she wondered when that had started.

They were reserved when Eugene opened the door and she let herself in ahead of him. He turned the television on for background noise, and a program about rebuilding houses filled the slightly awkward silence that ate at them in the small space.

Was he expecting her to do something after he'd kissed her like that in the street? What was the next step of things to do? It scared her, but excitement outweighed it. She wasn't unsure of him, she was unsure of herself. But what did Eugene want from her? Was she being too expectant of him? She wondered if she would go crazy if she made herself wait any longer to try more of what they'd done the other day.

She made a cup of peppermint tea without saying anything to him, very aware that he was leaning against the counter behind her, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows so his forearms were in view. She decided they were her favourite thing about him. His forearms were wonderful.

She turned to him with false confidence when she was finished making her tea, standing on the other side of the counter and watching him silently while she took tiny sips, her eyes wide over the rim of the mug in his direction.

"How was your salmon?"

She grinned at the conversation route he'd gone with. "It was so yummy! I've never had mashed potatoes like that before! I'm going to try to make them. And asparagus! Add that to my list of foods and vegetables I've tried now!"

"Asparagus is nasty," he pushed himself from the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How was your chicken?"

"It was delicious, Blondie."

"I think you're delicious,"

He seemed not to know what to say, so he smiled. But it wasn't the confident smile that she was used to seeing; the one that would tell her that he _knew_ he was delicious. It was a smile to say he'd thought what she said was funny and unexpected.

She could pretend she was brave, at the very least.

She placed her tea onto the counter and walked toward him calmly, maintaining eye contact. She was going to kiss him, and he was going to keep being surprised. It was only once she was in front of him that she realised that didn't really work without any momentum. Even on the tips of her toes she couldn't reach his lips with hers.

He seemed to understand this when she did, and he smiled wider. "Do you need a little help, Blondie?"

"Well, that's just not fair."

He bent and kissed her softly, pushing her hair away from her face and holding her cheek with his right hand. This wasn't the needy, urgent kissing from the street, but disappointment didn't flood through her like she'd expected. This kissing still made her knees week and her heart race. Her arms lifted and she pressed her hands to his stomach, feeling him subtly through his shirt as she followed his movements, feeling more and more confidence through her lips the more she practiced.

"You taste like peppermint tea,"

She grinned against his mouth, her eyes opening to watch him as he straightened and took a seat in one of the bar stools, his hand falling to her hip and pulling her toward him.

"Let me know if I do anything that scares you, would you? I felt like you were a little freaked out outside the restaurant earlier."

"I wasn't freaked out!" she told him honestly. "I was trying to figure out how to move!" she toned down her enthusiasm. "It was nice, kissing like that. It makes me feel things."

He watched her for a long moment, then rubbed his face with his hand that wasn't holding her. "Ugh, I feel like I'm ruining you."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Once your innocence's gone, it's gone. And you have more of it than anyone I know."

"Well, that's not my fault." She pushed herself to wrap her arms around his neck and looked at him evenly. "And isn't it better that you ruin me than anyone else? You make me happier than all the other people in the world."

He chuckled and put his other hand to her hip, holding her as she was holding him. They watched each other silently for a long time, then she pressed her lips together and looked at him seriously.

"Eugene,"

She was thrilled when she saw worry in his eyes at her unlikely tone. "What's up, Blondie?"

"Do you want to grab my bum?"

He grinned at her and his hands moved, half as a joke, behind her, resting on her gently before giving her a gentle squeeze. "Much better than the waitress'." He cleared his throat and his arms fell. "I have to have a shower. You can put whatever you want on the TV. Help yourself to anything. Do whatever you want."

"Okay," she stepped back as he stood from the bar stool, watching him go, suddenly feeling very nervous. Did he remember their conversation about seeing each other naked in the shower? Did he want to be left alone? Or should she just do it and prove to him she wasn't scared?

She was completely silent after he'd pulled the bathroom door closed behind him. But not completely closed. It was open just enough for a tiny sliver of light to be seen coming from the room. Enough so that it wouldn't make any noise if she followed him and opened it enough to step through.

Her wide eyes looked toward the television as her heart raced and her thoughts tumbled over each other. She couldn't seem to focus them enough to see what was happening on the screen, and the sound was muddled to her, though it was louder in the room than the sound of the shower in the bathroom, which seemed completely clear.

Eugene seemed to drink in the awkward silence that popped up between them every now and then, but Rapunzel occasionally wished it would just go away. She didn't necessarily want to rush things, but she wanted to prove to him that she wasn't a completely innocent little girl who would break if he touched her.

Deciding that she would regret everything if she allowed him to finish his shower and exit the room and fall back into their little awkward state for long enough to just fall asleep, Rapunzel wandered out of the kitchen, toward the bathroom.

Her glazed-over eyes only left the television when it fell from view and she took a long, shaky breath as she gripped the handle and pulled the door open.


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm really sorry, I lost my way with this for a little while. We've had a big change and my boyfriend's had to leave to work away, and it got a bit hard for me to sit at home and write about how well things were going for Eugene and Rapunzel when I'm spending every night alone. Because I'm super hopeless! Not to complain though, because I finally opened my emails after forever and your reviews and kind words are really helping. Thank you so much!  
**

**There are two more after this almost complete, but I kind of feel like the writing's not mine, so I'm going to work on them a little bit before I post them. They are on the way!**

* * *

The light and exhaust fan were on, the quiet hum and the sound of the water falling masking her entrance to the little bathroom. The dark shower curtain was pulled shut, and she couldn't make out so much as a figure behind it. Eugene's brown pants and navy shirt rested in a messy pile beside the basin, and Rapunzel stared at them for a long moment as she hovered in the doorway, unsure of what it was she was going to do next.

She knew what she wanted to do. But what if Eugene wanted to shower in piece or he laughed at her for trying to be brave? What if he really didn't like how she looked? What if how he looked scared her? She didn't really believe that last situation would happen. From a sexual perspective or not, anatomy was something that she was extremely interested in, and to be able to see a naked man in real life was something she'd been curious about since she picked up her first anatomy book while she was still in the hospital.

She could hear the water fall differently as he moved behind the curtain, and she wondered what he was doing. The clean smell of his body wash filled the small space in the steam from the hot water, and she took a deep breath, letting the scent fill her nose, reminding her of what his skin smelt like close-up. Her feet lifted themselves onto her tip-toes as she crossed the little room, stopping on the left hand side of the shower and raising her arm to knock twice on the wall tiles, as close as she could get without invading his space unannounced.

There was a short pause before the curtain opened just enough for him to poke his head and shoulder through.

His eyes were…worried? Nervous?

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she answered lamely, standing there and letting him know she had no idea what she was doing. He thought something was wrong. This wasn't the reaction she was expecting.

His eyes changed, and told her he registered what she was here for.

"Did…did you want to come in?"

"Can I?"

He chuckled quietly. "You can do whatever you want, Blondie. I'm not going to tell you to do anything, or stop you." He swallowed noticeably, and Rapunzel tried her best not to smile. This was all Eugene. He wasn't hiding behind Flynn with her any more. He _was_ nervous. And she kind of enjoyed that.

She let her nerves show too, and she breathed in a deep breath and let it out between pursed lips. "I would like to see you." She said decidedly.

Eugene watched her evenly, hesitating for a moment before opening the curtain a little further, standing straight as he did so.

She chewed on her lips as she broke eye contact to study him. She'd seen his chest and stomach before, but she appreciated them every time she looked at them. There was always something new to notice. And the water raining down on him, making him look all slippery and bringing out his tan kind of helped, as well. She liked his chest hairs. She could have played with them all day. She liked the way his shoulders were wide and his chest strong, but his waist tapered and narrow. She liked the lines on his stomach. She liked the V-shape that travelled from his hips, down…

It was a little bit different from the ones in the books she'd been reading. She studied it, intrigued, and he stood there, a stationary model for her while she took her fill. She wondered if they all looked completely different. She had an urge to reach out and touch it, but she'd read it was sensitive and she didn't want to hurt him.

When she figured she'd been staring for too long, she moved to look at his thighs, and his knees and his shins and his ankles and his feet. All very nice. He shifted uncomfortably, and she looked up to smile at him reassuringly.

"Well?" he cleared his throat.

"It's…" she looked down once more, trying to find the words. "Much less intimidating than I'd expected."

He barked a nervous laugh. "Wow, thanks a lot."

"No, no, no!" Rapunzel shook her head as she back-tracked. "I know it doesn't stay like that. I'm not saying it's not…impressive. I mean, I have nothing to compare it to, obviously. I was just jumping to the worst conclusion, I suppose."

She expected Flynn to say something like he was proud of it, or tell her he'd received compliments in the past. But this was Eugene, so he just gave her a small smirk and turned slightly to rinse soap suds off his shoulders. Rapunzel's eyes travelled over his wide back and down. She decided she would like to grab his bum as well, but she stayed in place.

"Well? Are you coming in? Or did you just come to stare at me?"

When he looked down at her, he seemed to regret his words. "Don't push yourself, Blondie. Small steps are fine."

She looked down at her bare feet and squished her toes into the bathmat beneath her. "Well, I have to shower anyway, I suppose. We might as well save water."

The zipper on the back of her dress was a bit difficult to reach, but she managed before he could ask if she needed help. She let it fall to her feet and kicked it to meet his discarded outfit from their date, then looked up at him, suddenly paralysed and unable to do anything else.

His eyes were dark and his mouth pressed into a serious line, and he pushed the shower curtain so it was completely open, giving her more than enough space to climb in beside him. She did so, still in her underwear, and stood just out of range of the water.

"Promise me you'll tell me if you're overwhelmed?"

"Yeah," she breathed, almost silently.

Eugene took half a step toward her, his hands resting comfortingly on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze before letting one travel to her bra clasp and having it undone quicker than she would have thought possible. She reminded herself of the past he didn't attempt to hide from her, but this wasn't showing off. He was simply doing what she'd come here for.

"It's okay," he murmured comfortingly when she tensed up as his fingers moved the straps off her shoulders. She relaxed on cue at his voice and he slipped it down, along her arms, off her hands, throwing it toward the rest of their clothes without taking his eyes off her.

He drank the sight of her in as she'd done to him, completely silent, tiny flecks of water ricocheting from his skin and just barely hitting hers. She tried her hardest not to feel self-conscious, but after years of constantly being told she wasn't good enough, it was a little hard. But the way Eugene looked at her said everything she needed to know. He wasn't out to hurt her. He was appreciating her.

His hands were resting on her hips and he moved them to hook his fingertips in the elastic at the top of her underwear. "Is this alright?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just nodded and let him continue. They joined the pile of clothing as well, and she watched him as he studied her, not giving her any indication of what he was thinking.

He looked at her for less time than she'd looked at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. I'm okay."

"You're beautiful."

Rapunzel was taken aback. Surely that was a hard thing to say for him. She wasn't expecting him to be throwing out compliments at her. He'd done so a couple of times in the past, but always in a humorous way. Whether it was kindness to ease her mind, or honesty, it wasn't something she'd been expecting. She didn't know how to put into words the way she appreciated him.

"Do you want me to get out?"

"No," she sighed quickly. "No, I want you to stay here with me." She suddenly found confidence and her hands reached to hold onto his upper arms, her fingers tight, to tell him to stay. His hands followed her, cradling her arms in the same way and he tugged her toward the water, both of them moving together as he stepped back and she stepped forward, closing her eyes and tilting her face up to the water, letting it saturate her skin and her hair, an attempt to wash away her nerves.

"Eugene," she murmured when she was feeling a little braver. "Remember what you did to me, in your bed? And I said I wanted to return the favour?"

She saw him swallow nerves for the second time, and it pushed her to continue. "Can I do it now? And can you help me?"

He was kissing her before she could comprehend what was happening, his hands moving up her arms to her hair and her neck, holding her tightly, though his lips were gentle. She kissed him back willingly, apparently not able to move her hands from his arms no matter how much she attempted to direct them. They were stuck with her anxiety, but he seemed okay with that for now.

Her knees were beginning to weaken to the point where she wondered if she would be able to support herself much longer when she felt him against her stomach. She faltered against his lips in surprise and he pulled back with a gasp.

"Sorry,"

Rapunzel shook her head and moved closer to him with determination, pressing herself against him, not being able to bring herself to look. He groaned roughly and kissed her again, gripping her hips and moving her slightly, over and over, rubbing her against him.

"What do I do?" she gasped when their lips left one another's again.

He was silent when he straightened from his hunched position to reach for something on the shelf beside them. He pulled her hands from his chest and soaped them up, lathering her right hand and guiding it down to him. He rubbed her wrist comfortingly before positioning her hand on him and closing her fingers gently.

Rapunzel looked down with a start, her hand frozen on him as she studied the changes that had happened so quickly. Eugene's hands didn't leave her, pausing for a moment before he guided her on the movements to make, trying to contain a long groan that escaped him stubbornly.

Rapunzel looked back up at him and offered him a small grin, and it was so her with this inappropriate timing that he couldn't resist a strained chuckle. Her left hand found his hip and gripped him confidently, and he released her hand and allowed her to follow his brief direction, closing his eyes and tracing her sides over and over as she stood before him.

"Fuck, Rapunzel…" he sighed as she continued, changing her grip ever so slightly, her hand testing out different places to hold him. He could feel her watching him, studying his face as she figured out where was best for him and logged it away in her brain for future times.

He guttural splutter left his lips as she dragged her small hand up to his tip, squeezing her fingers around him almost painfully, still sliding it back and forth.

"I…I'm going to—"

"Do it," she cut him off, ready for him.

He gripped her shoulders tightly as he felt himself explode, steadying himself on her tiny frame. He opened his eyes slowly, catching her playing with the mess on her stomach and ribs with her fingertips, intrigued with it, lifting it higher for a better look as she parted her fingers enough for it to break and fall away.

"Wash yourself off," he instructed, guiding her under the water and grabbing the body wash again, soaping up her stomach for her, relishing in the feel of her soft skin on his hand.

"Thank you," she told him quietly.

"Thank_ you_," he answered. "It's usually not that quick, I'm sorry. You've obviously been getting to me a bit," he grinned at her and she smiled, looking very pleased with herself.

"I want you to teach me _everything!"_

"Okay," he chuckled. "There'll be time for that. How about for now we just wash off and get out of the shower?"

Her tea must have been cold by the time they were out of the bathroom, but she helped herself to one of his shirts and crossed to the counter, picking it up and grinning at him as she took a long sip.

There was no point hiding from each other any more. Eugene noticed she hadn't put anything on under his t-shirt, and he threw his towel over one of the bar stools to dry before pulling on a pair of pajama pants, completely in her view.

"You're really beautiful, you know," she said from her place at the counter as he fell onto the small couch and leaned back into the cushions.

He didn't respond to her comment, but he motioned toward the remaining couch beside him. "Come here,"

She obeyed, resting her mug in the sink and dancing to him excitedly, dropping down onto the cushion beside him. "Thank you, Eugene."

"For what?"

"Just everything. For teaching me things and helping me all of the time. And for making me feel better about myself." She turned to him and crossed her legs, his t-shirt swallowing her like a dress and draping over her thighs.

He traced her knee gently. "I hope you're feeling okay with all of this. I don't want you to feel pressured at all."

"I don't." Her voice was firm. "I'm really happy. I know you're never really happy, but I hope that you're feeling better than you usually do. I would do anything for you, Eugene."

She was reading him more than he was comfortable with, and her little declaration was enough to have him freaking out internally, but he pushed it away. This was Blondie. This was safe. This was okay.

"Thanks, Blondie."

He wondered what her thoughts were about the stage of their relationship they were travelling through.

_Relationship._

A month ago that word alone would have sent him running. He thought about her leaving him the day at the salon and wondered if that was what had pushed him over the edge with being okay with having her here constantly, acting like a couple in a way he never had with anyone. Being _Eugene._

He wasn't ready to be using the girlfriend word, but he supposed that was what Blondie was at this point in time. He wouldn't have dreamed of letting anyone else into his life now, and he wondered whether it had been a long time coming to make this switch or whether something had flicked on inside of him and it had been instantaneous.

Apparently all there was on at this time of the night was corny, scripted renovation shows. A large red-haired man was talking his way through his plans for the house he was currently working on, getting it ready to sell for twice the price he purchased it for. Rapunzel was staring at the screen, asking questions about houses every now and then that Eugene answered as best he could.

"Am I here too much?" she asked him quietly after a long pause.

"No, I don't think so," he answered just as quietly. He saw her turn to him out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his eyes on the television.

"Because I don't have to be here as much. I'm worried that you want your space and you're going to get sick of me." She began speaking quicker with anxiety toward the end of her sentence.

Now Eugene half-turned to her with a small smirk. "I invited you out here tonight, remember? I wanted you to come back here."

"I know, I just worry I outstay my welcome sometimes…"

"Did you want to spend more time back at your place?"

"No," her eyes were wide and he frowned at the sudden desperation in her voice. "I hate being there so much! I can't wait to get out of there and have my own space! But I don't like the cake shop, and I know I have to wait until I have something better and can afford it. There's so much going on since I…got out…I worry that if I spend too much time locked inside all on my own I'll go crazy for good. And I won't be able to go outside again and it will be just like before. And people will forget me, and I'll just be trapped like I always was –"

"Hey," Eugene grabbed her left hand from where it was currently ripping at the ends of her hair. "It's okay," he squeezed her fingers comfortingly. "You know what? I don't feel okay when you're here, either. I can't imagine how you're feeling after the eighteen years you went through, but there's a lot going on with me as well and it feels a little like I'm falling apart when I don't have you here to distract me. So don't worry about it, Blondie. I feel like we kind of need each other."

Her eyes softened at his words and she looked down at their hands. "Does that scare you?"

"You terrify me," he said honestly. "The fact that I crave having you around…that's not something I'm used to. But that's how I feel. I want you here, so please don't stress yourself out over it, okay? I'll tell you if I ever want you to leave. But maybe don't hold your breath."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She fell asleep on his chest, the small fan above them circulating air that was cool for Corona around the wide room. He woke up with her gently holding onto his arm, one foot resting against his in her sleep and the other hitched up against the matress, the sheet half-covering her short legs.

Her face twitched in her sleep, and he watched her for a long time before she shifted, breathing deeply as her eyes opened lazily.

"Good morning,"

"Oh, morning…" she yawned widely and turned onto her back, stretching her arms over her head so his shirt rode up on her thighs. He turned on his pillow toward her and watched her with a small smile.

"What are you looking at, Fitzherbert?" she smiled back at him shyly and crossed her arms under her head. "What are we doing today?"

"I don't know, was there something you wanted to do?"

She suddenly looked very nervous, and closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Nope,"

"How about a day in?" her eyes slipped open again as he rolled so he hovered over her, and she watched him closely, still a little drowsy.

"A day in sounds nice to me," she whispered, her breath tickling his lips.

He kissed her gently, slowly, and she reciprocated the same. Her left hand found his back, rubbing against it, memorizing the feel of him.

He could have eaten this all up forever – Blondie being so unsure, learning about each other in the way he'd never taken the time for anyone before. He both hated and loved that every new little thing made him nervous. This wasn't him. But it one-hundred percent, completely was, as well. At the end of the day, this was all new for Eugene, after all. Eugene had never been the womanizing man-whore Flynn Rider was.

His lips broke their contact, and Blondie tried to follow him but he held her down at her collarbone and kissed her neck slowly. It took a couple of seconds, but she relaxed into him and sighed, her fingers running through his hair gently as he worshipped her with his mouth the way he knew would ruin even an experienced woman.

He wasn't one to take and not give in return, which he supposed was what had given him such a good reputation with the ladies, and seeing as he hadn't wanted to push her into anything after their shower together last night, this morning seemed the best time to reciprocate to show his appreciation.

He sat up and pulled her with him just long enough to pull his shirt over her head and throw it to the floor beside the bed. She seemed self conscious for a slip second, but then he pushed her back into the mattress, his lips on her collarbone and she relaxed automatically into him.

She knew to stop him if he went too far. He'd made her promise multiple times before. Teaching Blondie was quickly becoming his new favourite sport, and her delicious little reactions egged him on more than she would ever know.

He'd decided a long time ago nipples were a very hit-and-miss thing for him. Blondie's were perfect. The perfect shape, the perfect position, the perfect shade of a light pink-brown. He lowered his face to take one into his mouth and sucked on it gently, earning a small noise half-way between a gasp and a moan from her.

"Eugene," she sighed unsurely when he switched sides.

He ignored her, kissing her chest, breathing in the smell of her skin, continuing down her stomach. She twitched when he kissed the hollow of her hip, her knees jerking upwards for a moment.

"Sorry," she gasped. He grinned in return, climbing over her properly, gripping her right thigh to pull it around him where he settled in between her legs and kissed her hip again and again, feeling her legs shudder in anticipation for something she was completely unaware of.

It was only when he hooked her left leg over his shoulder that she seemed to completely wake up, sitting up as straight as she possibly could in this position and looking down at him with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Lie down," he instructed her gently. "Trust me."

She watched him unsurely for a moment, but did as he told her, her shoulders falling into the pillow behind her, her head still tilted to look at him curiously.

He lowered his mouth to her, running his tongue up her smoothly, tasting her for the first time.

She gasped loudly and her legs shook so violently on either side of him he stopped to ask if she was okay.

She nodded desperately to him, her eyes burning as she watched him lower his head once again. He kept eye contact with her as he did it again, feeling her knees shudder against his side, imprinting her taste into his mind in case he should ever forget.

Her breath sped with his movements and her fingers eventually knotted into his hair, tugging with his patterns as she learned the feeling of his mouth. Every so often her breath would turn to sighs, and Eugene felt himself react to her in a way that hadn't happened with anyone in years and years.

He wished he could go back in time to last night and slap himself. He wasn't taking away her innocence. She was still the most pure, innocent thing in the world. That was just Blondie.

Her hands in his hair became painful, and her heels found the mattress beneath her, pushing back into it as she lifted her hips slightly to meet him, following his rhythmic pattern. Her hips rose and her hands pressed him to her so he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. He looked up at her as her face disappeared from view, her neck extended deliciously. Her moans got louder and more desperate and her movements sped up as she found her own pace. He followed willingly, feeling her start to convulse against his tongue as her legs shook around him. Her voice was high and desperate and her fingers ripped at his hair in a way that made his eyes water. He strung out her orgasm, his tongue tormenting her in a way he'd done to so many girls before. But this time it wasn't thought-through to get a good review. He followed her movements and stopped when her moans turned to soft sighs as she tried to catch her breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her entire body, and when he climbed up the bed to lay beside her she grinned, her eyes heavy as she looked at him.

She was the least sexy person he'd ever met in his entire life, with her wide-eyes naivety, bare feet and girly dresses. But that just made her all the more unbearably delicious when they were in these situations.

"That was nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"Are you going back to sleep, Blondie?"

"Yeah…"


	20. Chapter 20

**I know I say this every time I update, but thank you so much for the lovely messages and reviews! I'm going through a bit of a rough patch with my partner not being around and it really means something to me that you guys are reaching out!  
**

**I think this might be the longest chapter so far? And there are two more after this almost complete, but I kind of feel like the writing's not mine, so I'm going to work on them a little bit before I post them. They are on the way!**

**P.S. this is the chapter where that character I know I've been waiting for enters! It's not Lance, or anyone else we know just from the series. I know a few people were hoping for this, so I hope you guys aren't too disappointed with who it is!**

* * *

They were happy to just nap and touch and watch movies for the remainder of the day. Rapunzel cooked pasta for lunch with ingredients Eugene didn't even realise were in his house. Of course, it was delicious.

Rapunzel checked her phone as they sat at the counter and ate. She had a message from Cass from earlier in the morning.

_How was your date?_

Rapunzel knew her friend was coming from a good place, but the fact that she was keeping this secret from her made her feel like she was prying. She pushed the negative thoughts out of her head and replied.

_Really nice. He took me somewhere really beautiful for dinner. I'm still at his house. He's really nice to me._

She knew she was insisting on Eugene without needing to. Cass wasn't technically an authoritative figure to her anymore, just a friend. She was allowed to spend the night where she wanted to, and with whomever she pleased. And somewhere in the back of her mind it would help in future to set up the fact that Eugene was good to her currently. Because Rapunzel couldn't see a possible future without both Eugene and Cassandra in it.

_Oh, wow. Make sure he keeps being nice to you Raps, or he'll have me to deal with! I'll talk to you later._

Rapunzel smiled at her friend's message, glad she hadn't been questioned the way she'd been expecting to. She set the phone aside and caught Eugene watching her.

"Cass messaged me."

"Wanting to make sure I haven't murdered you for everything you have?" he attempted to sound humorous, but Rapunzel saw his eyes become guarded and she stirred her pasta slowly.

"Well, that would be a lot of work for nothing in return," she tried to make a joke. Eugene sipped his water instead of answering. "I actually told her I was going on a date with Eugene Fitzherbert. She doesn't know that I'm with you."

"Sneaky," he suddenly was unable to make eye contact with her, and Rapunzel wondered what she'd done wrong.

"Eugene," she murmured, setting down her fork and leaning toward him. "Does that upset you that I wasn't completely honest with her? I just thought it would make things easier for us. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You haven't upset me, Rapunzel," her name sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth it shocked her. "You shouldn't be dating someone you need to hide from your friends. I'm making this so much harder than it needs to be for you."

She stood from her seat and grabbed his jaw between her fingers like a child, forcing him to look at her. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Eugene. The fact that I'm calling you that is enough to tell us both how much you've changed, isn't it?"

He wasn't the kind of person who had ever answered to anyone, since his mother died, but he frowned at her as he took in her words. She was so small that he was still slightly higher than her while he sat on his bar stool, but she held her chin up and didn't falter as she spoke at him.

"I know you love to wallow on what you did, but I don't care! I really, really don't. You made lots of mistakes! That's okay! Because you're just the coolest, best person I've ever met and I'd rather be hiding you from Cassandra than flaunting anyone else to her."

"Rapunzel, my past could come back to bite us any second. I hope you realise that. It's probably not going to be so easy and relaxed forever."

"And we'll deal with that when it happens," she said dismissively. Her hand fell to his chest and she ran her fingers through the hairs that peeked out over the collar of his shirt. "But I'm super fucked-up too, and I kind of like that you have some issues to balance me out, if I'm being completely honest."

He chuckled at her and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward him to kiss her once on the mouth. "I'm pulling myself out of this, I promise. It's been settling over me for a long time, but I'm doing it."

"It's okay," her thumb traced his lower lip for a moment before she turned back to her seat. "I see your depression and raise you the world's worst anxiety."

They went for a walk in the afternoon, when the sun was out of the centre of the sky and the breeze began to cool. They held hands as they wandered through the square, and Eugene realised with a start that they would have looked exactly like the other couples they passed. Rapunzel bought them both ice cream after insisting for five minutes it was her shout, then they studied the murals yet again, Blondie pointing out bits and pieces in the pictures that Eugene decided he never would have noticed had it not been for her.

Rapunzel met a chocolate Labrador named Winston. She let him lick her all over the face and asked his parents everything she could about him. He was four years old and his birthday was the fourteenth of September, and he liked to chew shoes. Rapunzel told them that she was going to have a dog as well, as soon as she had somewhere for him to live.

They were seated on the benches when Rapunzel set her empty ice cream cup down and turned to him. "I'm definitely going to meet my parents."

"That's a very final decision."

"I've been thinking about it, and I think you're right; I have to do it."

"When are you going to do it?"

She hesitated. "I don't really know. I don't think I can do it by myself, but Cass said she could come with me if I needed her to…"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. "I'll go with you, Blondie." He regretted it immediately, and cleared his throat "If you want me to."

"I want that," she said slowly. "But you don't have to, Eugene. I know all of this stuff is really different to what you'd normally be doing…"

The hope in her eyes was enough for him to take her hand. "I'll be there. How about on Sunday? People are usually home from work on Sunday."

She nodded slowly, her breathing quickening, so Eugene waited for her to speak next. "I have to go and see the detective I've been working with. I'll do that tomorrow. Let him know I've made a decision. He said he would organise meeting them so I didn't have to speak to them before I saw them in person. They don't actually know they've found me yet, he wanted it to be my decision after everything that happened."

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "They've only been giving me four-hour shifts lately, but that's okay with me. I've saved lots. And the government is still giving me my housing and stuff. I think the shop is getting over me, honestly. None of them have tried speaking to me like you or Cass or the guys at the Snuggly Duckling have."

"You don't need them, Blondie. We'll find you something else. How about I pick you up from work tomorrow and we can do whatever you want for the afternoon? We can job hunt, or go to the park and look at dogs, or eat as much ice cream as we can."

"That sounds nice," she said softly.

They were relaxed with each other when they made it back to his house. They showered together, but just soaped each other up and let the water run the suds off, both of their hands twitching with nerves as they touched each other. They didn't push for anything else to happen.

"Eugene," Rapunzel said quietly as they lay beside each other in the dark that night.

"What's up, Blondie?"

"What you did to me this morning…was that a blow job?"

He chuckled. "I guess you could say that, but I think 'blow job' is a term technically used for men."

"Oh," she thought about it for a moment. "I would like to try to give you a blow job next."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah," he heard her yawn in the dark and pulled her onto his chest, wrapping his arm around her comfortably, as though they'd done it a hundred times before.

"We can talk about it tomorrow, Blondie."

He dropped her off at the police station in the morning. She didn't invite him in, and it was the last place he wanted to walk into if he was being completely honest. She kissed him quickly before climbing out of the car. Her face told him she was full of nerves, and he did his best to reassure her it would all be okay. She nodded, but he knew she didn't believe him, and he watched her until she disappeared between the automatic doors at the front of the building.

She was already wearing her work uniform, and she'd insisted she wanted to walk to the cake shop, though it was quite a hike for her. He didn't push her and told her he would pick her up at 2 o'clock when her shift finished.

Rapunzel told the receptionist at the long, glass-protected desk that she was there to see Max and sat in one of the deep purple, bolted-down, plastic chairs to wait.

It didn't take long for him to open the door and invite her into one of the little rooms with the single desk, computer and two chairs.

"I wasn't expecting to see you today, Rapunzel," Max tucked a strand of white hair behind his ear and leaned forward welcomingly on the desk. Rapunzel got the impression he thought of her as a daughter figure, and offered him a small, nervous smile.

"I've been thinking about meeting my parents, and I talked to my friends about it, and they think it's a good idea."

"So you've been spending some time with friends again?"

"Yeah, just Cass…and the friend I was telling you about last time I was here."

"The man," Max recollected. "You're seeing him again?"

"Yeah," Rapunzel sighed and toed the leg of the desk nervously. "We were both going through a bit of a hard time, and we've kind of seen each other every day since. He took me on a date."

"Wow," she couldn't tell if he seemed pleased for her or a little protective. Max wasn't the best at displaying those kind of emotions. "And he's being nice to you?"

"He's always nice to me,"

"It's good, you deserve that. And is he your boyfriend now?"

Rapunzel giggled nervously, unable to look at the detective for the first time ever. She knew these interviews were also a way of keeping in touch and making sure she was doing okay being out in the world, but there was something about Max being so down to earth that muddled her a little bit.

"I think if we used the word 'boyfriend' it would scare him away, honestly." She grinned at him. "But, I guess, that's how things are going."

"Well, good for you, Kid." He tugged the manila folder toward himself, clearing his throat as he got off the awkward subject. "Now, have you thought about when you would want to meet your parents? It's completely your decision. I can organise everything and let them know what's going on, and you just show up and spend as much time as you want with them, okay?"

"Okay," Rapunzel sighed nervously, her hands trembling as she thought of his words. "I was thinking Sunday? Maybe this Sunday or the next? Just so I don't have to alter anyone's schedules."

"Sundays are good." Max scribbled down some notes on the sheet of paper in front of him. Rapunzel wouldn't have been able to read them if she'd tried, his handwriting was that poor. She liked that about him. It was probably the first unprofessional thing she'd seen from him.

"And where did you want to meet them?"

"Oh – uh…"

"You can go to a restaurant? Be somewhere public?"

"Um, no…no," Rapunzel shifted in her seat and twisted her fingers together. "I'm kind of expecting to be a nervous wreck, honestly. I don't want to be around a lot of people."

"Well, how about just going to their house? Their house is lovely. And I'm sure they'd make dinner or something. Have you thought about maybe taking someone with you?"

"Um, yeah, my…_boyfriend_ has offered to come with me."

"Excellent, so you'll have someone there to rely on if you need it. What time did you want to meet them?"

"Maybe midday? I don't want to wait around all day for it, incase I talk myself out of it."

"Okay," he made a few more notes and crossed his hands on the desk. "Did you want me to ask them any questions before I finalise things?"

Rapunzel was quiet for a long moment. "I just want to make sure they want me. I don't want to knock on their door if they've put me behind them."

Max's face fell for a moment, and his brown eyes held her gaze seriously. "Rapunzel, parents don't give up on their children, even if they've been missing for eighteen years. I can guarantee you they will be more than ecstatic to hear that you're coming home. You know, they still hold a fundraiser every year on your birthday to try to find out information about you. It's shadowed by the Corona Day celebrations each year, but it's out there. They want to find you."

"Okay," Rapunzel breathed nervously. "Okay, contact them. I think I'm ready."

Max promised to be in touch with her with news about his contact with them as soon as he'd reached them. He didn't want to call them in front of her incase it scared her away, she thought.

She walked to work, her eyes fixed feet on the ground in front of her. It was a hot day, which she'd been expecting. It was always hot in Corona. It took her almost an hour to make it to work, but her head was still full of busy thoughts, half-telling her to call Max and tell him to call off their mission.

She arrived fifteen-minutes before her shift, but she tied an apron behind her waist and started working at any rate. She didn't want to sit down and do nothing with her thoughts how they were.

"Are you okay?"

The question shocked her, and she turned to face the young girl who made the coffees. Chelsea. Her name was Chelsea. And she'd never spoken one word to Rapunzel until this moment.

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you okay? You look a little flustered." There was a small amount of worry in her eyes, and whether it was forced or not, Rapunzel appreciated it.

"Oh! Um, I'm okay. I have a bit going on at the moment. I'm overthinking things."

Chelsea offered her a little smile. "Did you want a peppermint tea? That's what you make yourself, isn't it?"

"Um…yeah, that would be nice. Thank you."

Chelsea was sixteen, or something. She had thick, straw-coloured hair Gothel would have prayed for Rapunzel to grow naturally. Her stomach twisted as she thought the name, and she shook her head, wishing a customer would enter the store to take her mind off it.

"You know, if you ever want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. I only moved to Corona a few months ago, so I probably know as many people as you do." Chelsea handed her the cup of tea and Rapunzel blew on it gently.

"Thank you, Chelsea. I really appreciate that."

"I've been nervous to talk to you for a while," Chelsea chuckled. "Before you started they were saying you were a celebrity and it freaked me out a little bit. I'd never head of you before I started working here."

"Do they talk about me when I leave?"

"Yeah," Chelsea said honestly. "They think you're nice, but I think they can't get past what happened to you."

"Fair enough," Rapunzel murmured, taking a small sip. "I don't think there's many people that can."

"It's a weird situation," Chelsea agreed. Rapunzel wasn't sure if she liked her blunt honesty or not. "But it wasn't your fault it happened, you shouldn't be punished for it."

"Thanks, Chelsea."

The shift went quickly, for once. Chelsea didn't speak to her as much when a couple of the other girls came in for work, but their small interaction in the morning had Rapunzel's confidence up more than usual.

It was a busy lunch hour. Jordan from the construction site came in and leaned on the counter in front of Rapunzel, asking her how her day was going and if she had any plans for the afternoon, despite all of the people in the little store. Rapunzel answered him as best she could, not telling him about Eugene in case she upset him. He was cute, with his floppy hair and skinny arms and pimples. He was a nice boy, and Rapunzel wondered if she wasn't so infatuated with Eugene, was Jordan more the type of person she could see herself with?

Two o'clock was approaching quickly. Rapunzel dusted out the display cases and put a passionfruit slice in a bag to give to Eugene when she got in his car. The other girls were leaning against the bench behind her, chatting about their husbands and how hopeless they were. They were always hopeless, apparently.

"Holy shit, look at him." Rapunzel looked toward Monique, the owner, as she nudged Sally and nodded toward the windows. "What a looker."

"He's coming in,"

"I'm serving him." Monique giggled and stepped in front of Sally as Rapunzel looked over her shoulder to see whom they were talking about.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks," Eugene offered a friendly smile, his hands relaxed in his pockets as he raised his eyebrows at Rapunzel. "You ready? I brought you a change of clothes, if you want them."

Rapunzel couldn't seem to contain the grin that had spread across her face, resisting looking toward Sally and Monique, who she could feel burning holes into her with their eyes.

"I'll change in the car. Do you mind if I just take the garbage out the back?"

"All good, Blondie,"

"I got you a passionfruit slice," she tossed the small white bag over the counter, and Eugene caught it easily.

"Ah, you're so good to me."

Rapunzel all but skipped to the huge garbage bin out the back, throwing the black plastic back into it and letting the lid fall back into place. She kicked off her shoes as she ran back through the baking section of the store, grabbing her bag on the way through and entering the main section again, Eugene was leaning against the counter casually, and Monique and Sally were murmuring quietly to each other.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Rapunzel grinned happily at them as she passed, meeting Eugene on the other side of the counter. "Kiss me," she breathed quietly at him.

He raised his eyebrows in question with a small smirk, but bent on command and captured her lips, kissing her just enough to be a little inappropriate in her work place. He obviously knew it was for the other girls, not her, but it still made her all dizzy and weak.

"I thought you were going to wait in your car,"

His voice was a little too loud when he answered. "Nah, didn't want to miss that view of you in those jeans,"

"Eugene," she threw her head back and giggled hysterically as they walked away from the store. "You're so funny,"

"Just being honest," he shrugged as though he had no idea where her laughter was coming from. "Were they nice to you today?"

_"They_ were their usual selves. But I think I might have made friends with the coffee girl?"

"Well that's good, Blondie!" he seemed genuinely pleased for her. He opened the door for her and she fell into the seat as he crossed to his side. Her little green sundress was waiting for her, folded neatly on the dashboard. She pulled her shirt off, over her head and replaced it with the dress as Eugene pulled away from the curb, smirking at her obvious comfort with him.

"So, what did you want to do, Blondie?"

"Retail therapy," Rapunzel answered instantly, as though she'd been rehearsing.

_"Retail therapy?"_

"Yeah," she nodded once. "It's when you purchase things to make yourself feel better about things."

"I know what it means," Eugene answered quietly. "I just wasn't expecting that to be one of those little phrases you'd picked up." _Like 'blow jobs' and 'getting in your pants',_ Eugene thought to himself. "So your interview didn't go according to plan, then?"

"No, it was fine," Rapunzel said glumly. "It was just a lot to think about all day. And I really want to spend my savings on a sewing machine. I've been itching to make some dresses since I got admitted to the hospital. I think it's finally time to get it."

Eugene didn't answer, taken aback by her casual conversation about the mental ward she'd lived in for the first month or however long after getting out of that house.

Rapunzel reached to her little bag to pull out her phone, seeing a missed call from Max, from about an hour into her shift. She excused herself and called him back.

"Could I please speak to Max Stapleton?" she asked the girl who answered the phone. Eugene looked at her interestedly as they stopped at a set of lights.

_"Rapunzel,"_

"Hi Max, I'm sorry I missed you before,"

_"That's fine, my girl. I called your parents. They were a little overwhelmed by everything, but they are waiting to see you on Sunday. Your mother was a little too emotional to speak, but your father had a long chat with me and they're expecting you at 12 o'clock. Does that work for you?"_

"Yes," Rapunzel answered as confidently as she could. "We will be there…" she hesitated for a moment. "Is there something I should take with me?" How did these things work?

_"No, Rapunzel, they are going to organise everything for you. Just be there at midday. And don't push yourself, okay? Just take it as it comes."_

"Yep," she swallowed nervously. "Thank you for doing all of that for me." Eugene leaned over to grab her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as she ended the conversation.

"Hey. You okay?"

"I'm terrified," she answered in a breath. She shook her head. "Let's talk about this later. I just want to have a good afternoon."

Eugene wondered if Rapunzel was going to spontaneously combust when she walked through the doors of the giant craft store. She bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly, grabbing his hand and dragging him to a wall of brightly coloured, floral fabrics. He insisted they look at sewing machines before they do anything else, just in case she ran out of money and she agreed.

There was a sale on machines that the young woman at the sewing counter recommended, and Rapunzel picked out a bulky-looking grey thing with too many knobs that didn't make any sense to Eugene. She seemed happy enough, and left it with the girl at the desk as she danced away to look at fabrics with a very lost Eugene in tow.

Nine yards of fabric, two patterns, three spools of thread and three zippers later, and Rapunzel was putting her card into the little machine on the counter.

"This is the first time I've used this!" she said excitedly, grinning at Eugene. She paused, looking at the screen, her finger hovering over the buttons.

Eugene walked her through it slowly, so she would remember for next time. He wondered if the final price was going to scare her, but she seemed more than happy to pay it. He carried the heavy sewing machine box back to the car while Rapunzel chatted about the plans she had for all three dresses she was going to make.

"Where to next?"

"I want to see dogs," Rapunzel told him decidedly. "Do you want to see dogs?"

"Blondie, this is your afternoon." He pursed his lips as he thought. "There's a pet store in this block, if you wanted to just walk there?"

"Yep,"

The pet store had its windows filled with dogs waiting to be adopted. There were colourful birds squawking loudly from perches, out in the open, and a tank of lizards at the front desk. Rapunzel crossed straight to the small cages of dogs and read each and every one of their little tags out loud to him.

"Oh! Charlie! Oh, Eugene, isn't he so handsome?" she leaned over the cage and scratched the blue heeler on the head. "He's only six months old! Why would anyone get rid of a six-month old?!"

"Some people don't know what they want," Eugene murmured, following her as she went to each and every cage.

"This one is good with children and other dogs! I don't have either of those things…this one doesn't shed fur! Did you know that was a thing?"

She gasped and grabbed his arm, staring down at what might have been the most ridiculous dog Eugene had ever seen.

A chubby beagle with a lazy eye looked back up at them from where it was sprawled on the floor, an empty food bowl to its left. It looked as though the dog had attempted to go swimming in its water dish.

"Hi," the dog was out of reach, so Rapunzel bent down to smile widely at it through the bars. This was apparently enough to roll over onto its back, its right eye trained on her but its left hovering around on the outside of its head.

"Ohhh," she chuckled lovingly," Aren't you sweet?" she turned and grinned widely at Eugene, who offered her a pair of raised eyebrows and not much else.

"Three years old, rescued from a cosmetic testing lab! Oh!" she clapped her hands together and began to beckon the dog with her fingers. "You were locked up your whole like like I was…" she glanced toward the information sheet once again. _"Pascal,"_

The dog waddled to the front of the cage and rolled over immediately for Rapunzel to scratch his stomach. She laughed with glee, running her fingernails over him happily.

"I don't know, Blondie. I feel like whoever gets this guy's getting ripped off. His adoption fee is the same as it is for dogs with two working eyeballs."

"Don't be mean," Rapunzel cooed. "It's endearing."

Eugene could have thought of another word for it. But before he could say anything too harsh, a store employee approached them to ask if they needed help with anything.

"We're alright, thanks," Eugene said dismissively.

"How long has Pascal been here?" Rapunzel piped up from her place on the floor, still not lifting her hands from the dog's tummy.

The young woman smiled toward the brunette and the dog. "Pascal came in last week, so not too long. He hasn't been shown much interest since he's been here. People like the younger ones a lot more. And they're worried about health problems in future with his eye and all, but it shouldn't be an issue for him. He's blind on his left side, but that doesn't slow him down. You should see him at dinner time."

"No kidding," Eugene murmured under his breath, eyeing the dog's thick mid-section.

Rapunzel laughed delightedly. "I love him! I love him, I love him, I love him!"

"We're actually having a special this next month, if you adopt one of our dogs you get all of their essentials on us. I'm sure Pascal would be happy to go home with you."

Eugene watched Rapunzel physically deflate, her shoulders falling forward and her head hanging on her neck. She sighed heavily. "I'm not allowed to have a dog where I live. I need to wait until I have a home where a dog can live as well."

The store assistant offered a sympathetic smile and directed Rapunzel's attention to smaller animals that lived in cages, which wouldn't be bothered by her small, yard-free home.

She chatted excitedly as they wandered back to his car, and Eugene stressed he'd done the wrong thing by taking her to see the dogs. She talked about Pascal's ears, and how wet his nose had been, and the way it looked like he was looking in two different places at once. And when she'd said everything she had to say about that dog in particular, she started telling him about beagles as a whole. Did he know their ears were long to help them track scents? And that their noses were so much stronger than all of these other breeds he'd never heard of? And that the reason they're used so much in labs is because they're super passive and will let people do whatever they want to them?

He was able to distract her when they reached his car by remarking how wonderful her choice in fabric was, which got her started on a whole other subject to ramble about.

The sun was still bright as they drove in the direction of his apartment, but Eugene heard her stomach growl loudly from the passenger seat.

"Hungry, Blondie?"

"Yeah, I suppose I am. I kind of forgot to eat today…" she frowned, maybe from thoughts of her heavy day or the pain of an empty stomach. "And I don't think we have much at your place to work with for dinner. Should we go shopping on the way back?"

"Nah," he couldn't really be bothered, if he was being completely honest. At any rate, looked like Blondie needed some cheering up, and if he knew anything he knew the best way to do that was through something that wasn't very good for her. "There's a good pizza place on the way back, we'll just do that and keep it easy."

"I've never had pizza before," she said this as casually as if she was remarking on the weather.

He looked away from the road for a little too long to frown at her in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," she shook her head sheepishly. "Never, ever. But I'm happy to give it a try."

"Blondie, you haven't lived."

* * *

**Pascal! I love Pascal so much! My car is named Pascal, so we couldn't name either of our lizards Pascal, but their favourite place is our shoulders so I can just dream! I hope everyone was excited to hear he's made an entrance into our story! Rapunzel needs her best friend.**


	21. Chapter 21

Eugene started working at the book shop again. It felt different, though it was rare for him to see Joan during one of his shifts previously. A few regular customers offered their condolences, having seen the sign on the door. Frank was quiet and thoughtful when he took receipts and cash to him in the afternoons. The old man seemed to be holding himself together quite well, but Eugene didn't push him for thoughts or ask how he was feeling.

They'd fallen into a routine, without having spoken about it. He drove her to the cake shop on Friday morning without asking if she wanted him to, and told her he would pick her up when her shift finished.

Rapunzel watched his car pull from the curb and leave the street with a small, satisfied smile on her face. His little actions were more than anyone had ever done for her before, and she promised herself she would never take him for granted.

Chelsea was the first person she saw when she walked through the door. They offered each other welcoming smiles, but Chelsea's expression fell into something a bit darker as Rapunzel neared her.

"Morning," Rapunzel greeted her unsurely. "Are you okay?"

"I just wanted to let you know that they've been talking about your boyfriend this morning. I didn't get in on the conversation. I just wanted to give you the heads-up."

"Oh," Rapunzel felt nervous butterflies erupt in her stomach, and her cheeks got hot immediately. "Thanks, Chelsea."

She put her bag in the back room, wondering if Chelsea had become a friend. They had never really said much to each other, but she seemed to be looking out for her when she wasn't here. She came back to the main room and a cup of peppermint tea was handed to her automatically.

She wasn't greeted by the older women at all, but she wasn't expecting to be if she was being completely honest. The day was busy, and her shift passed quickly. Chelsea left an hour before Rapunzel's shift was due to finish, and Rapunzel suddenly felt a little unsure without the other young girl there. She didn't know why she felt she needed back-up, but something about being stuck there just with Sally and Monique felt a little uncomfortable.

Monique waited until Rapunzel put a passionfruit slice in the white paper bag she was holding to speak to her.

"Rapunzel, do you mind if we just have a quick word with you?"

Sally was leaning against the stainless steel bench-top beside Monique, neither of them giving her any hints as to what their conversation was going to be about.

"Sure," Rapunzel answered automatically. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, no," Monique attempted a comforting smile, but it looked wrong. "Sally and I were talking about the guy that came to pick you up the other day…is that your boyfriend?"

"Um," Rapunzel huffed, frustrated. This boyfriend word was really starting to get to her. "I suppose he is…"

The older women shared a troubled look, which seemed to be over-dramatised just for her viewing pleasure, and Rapunzel felt her cheeks and neck starting to heat up again.

"We thought he looked familiar after you left the other day. Do you know who he is?"

Rapunzel swallowed angrily. "Yes, I do," she said shortly. The tone of the words coming out of her mouth didn't feel right, and she felt rage fill the pit of her stomach.

"Do you know what he's done?" Sally piped up in the background. "He used to be on the news a lot, but I suppose that was before you were out of that house. He's not a good person, Rapunzel. We just want you to be careful."

"He _is_ a good person," Rapunzel said quietly, clenching her hands into fists and squishing the slice in the bag. "I know what he did, he's told me. He's not keeping secrets from me." Something about her tone made her feel like she was a child arguing with her mother.

Monique hesitated before speaking again. "And that's really good and all, but people don't change, Rapunzel. We just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. We'd hate to see anything bad happen to you."

Rapunzel felt as though she could have blown up. Her anxiety crept up on her, but it wasn't confusing and didn't make her feel completely lost, as was typically the norm. She was hot and shaky, and wanted to scream. She took a deep breath, the kind where you count like her therapist had taught her, and let it out slowly. When she spoke her voice was quiet. "My shift is finished."

Eugene's car was waiting for her where he'd dropped her off. She only realised when she reached it that she was still wearing her apron. She opened the door without hesitation and slid into the seat, ripping the frosting-covered cloth off her front and throwing it at her feet.

"Hey," Eugene said unsurely, watching her with a small frown. "You alright, Blondie?"

"Let's go,"

He didn't push her to speak as they drove back toward the bookshop, but it only took a few minutes until she started speaking on her own. "They recognised you from the news the other day," she said angrily. "They were _worried_ about me, and they wanted to have a chat about you, and tell me that you weren't a good person and you weren't going to change!"

Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but Rapunzel continued, her voice getting higher and higher until it began shaking. "Which is complete _bullshit_, because they could _not_ have cared less about me since the minute I walked through the door. It's just because they love to have a gossip, and I'm always the first one to talk about because I have no one there to stand up for me! They just want to ruin my life even further because it's their favourite hobby -"

"Hey," Eugene grabbed her hand from ripping at the ends of her hair and cut her off. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks immediately, and she hung her head so he wouldn't see them. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I shouldn't have gone in the other day."

"Why are you apologising to me?!" Rapunzel gasped. "It's not your fault! It's them! They're so bored with their lives that they need to get involved with everyone else's!"

"They're right, though," Eugene said quietly. "If it was anyone else, I would say they were looking out for you. Isn't that something similar to what Cassandra was saying? It's my fault I went down that path, Rapunzel. You don't have to stand up for me. I did the wrong thing."

"They have no idea about anything." Rapunzel spat. Eugene got the impression that was her way of ending the conversation, so he stopped himself from saying anything else.

Eugene took down the sign telling customers he was on his lunch break and unlocked the front door. Rapunzel immediately disappeared into the rows of books, hiding somewhere in the back corner and immersing herself in a story about pirates. It took her an hour or so to meet him back at the front desk, and she started looking over the numbers of what they'd made each day since the store had reopened.

It was Saturday tomorrow. Rapunzel's last day before she met her family. Eugene asked her what she wanted to do a couple of times, but she responded quietly and said she didn't know. She'd been thoughtful all afternoon, and he let her hover at his side instead and just exist.

Frank opened the door behind the desk and hesitated when he saw Rapunzel seated on the counter beside the small cash register while Eugene made notes on a piece of receipt paper.

"Oh! You're back!" it was the liveliest Eugene had heard him speak since before Joan had passed away.

"Frank," Rapunzel pushed herself off the counter and immediately crossed to give him a small hug. "I'm so sorry to hear about your wife. How are you going?"

"It's fine, my girl. She had a long and happy life. Now I'm just going to wait out my days until I see her again." He brushed Rapunzel's short hair once, and looked toward Eugene. "How did we go today?"

"Quiet," Eugene didn't have to tell him. The bookshop was failing, and they both knew it. Rapunzel looked between them silently.

"Eugene," Frank cleared his throat, perhaps with nerves. "I was wondering if you wanted to come upstairs and have a chat with me about the shop? You're both welcome, of course. I just need to get some things organised."

Eugene and Rapunzel followed him up the stairs without a second thought. The house was neat, nothing moved from its place, and it made Eugene a little uneasy. He felt as though Joan was going to peer around the corner and feed him compliments at any moment. Rapunzel excused herself from their conversation to make tea and Frank sat Eugene down at the small dining room table, crossing his hands in front of him, unable to look at the young man seated across from him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but stern, telling Eugene he didn't want an argument from him.

"I'm too old to keep the shop," he began quietly. "Now, I know you're going to have a lot to say, but I want you to listen to me, and I want you to take what I'm telling you seriously before you start to argue."

Eugene swallowed back his words and leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark wood of the table. Frank continued.

"I don't want you to feel like you have nothing to keep yourself busy with. We know what happens when you're feeling that way. You have your parents inheritance still untouched, and you could do all sorts of things with that, but I wanted to offer you the shop, if it's something you would think of keeping up. Our customers know you, and you know what you're doing to keep it going. You've got a young mind, you can figure out what needs to be done to keep it from failing like it has been. I've been meaning to make some changes for years, but my age has slowed me down and kept me from taking those steps, and now with Joan gone, I just can't be bothered anymore. I'm moving into an aged community in the area. I don't want to be kept busy with this stuff anymore."

"Frank, you're still perfectly able," Eugene said softly. "There's no reason why you have to stop everything."

"I want to," Frank said finally. "I'm finished with it all, Eugene. I know you would be able to take care of it all, but I want it to be your decision. Move in up here, if you wanted to. Bring your girl in. There's only two bedrooms, but that's all you'd need to begin with. You can live close to work. You can work together. Do things to keep it busy."

"Frank," Eugene sighed heavily, tapping his fingers on his knees nervously.

Frank stood from the table and put his hand on Eugene's shoulder. "Think about it. You don't have to make your decision now. I know it's a big one. Just let me know what you decide."

Rapunzel insisted she make dinner for everyone. She left to go to the small grocery shop down the road and returned, letting Eugene help her make salad and chatting with Frank while he leaned against the counter with a glass of wine.

Frank told her stories Eugene had never heard before, and it made Eugene regret how absent he'd been in his adult years.

"I didn't go to school," Rapunzel told Frank honestly when he asked her.

"Don't need it," Frank said gruffly. "I left when I was thirteen. I sold ice cream out the back of a truck. I was allowed to eat all the ice cream I wanted! That's when I got this," he smacked his middle with a chuckle. "And then I started driving the truck, and kept doing it until I was twenty-five. I met Joan when I was working, you know. She was sixteen. We were married four months later. Her parents had to sign papers giving her permission to marry me at such a young age," he and Rapunzel laughed.

"You're a smart girl, though," he said seriously. "What are you doing with yourself?"

Rapunzel looked toward Eugene with wide eyes, as if he could help her. "I don't know yet."

"You've got plenty of time." Frank told her reassuringly.

* * *

Eugene parked his car and the two walked up the staircase to his door silently. He opened the door and Rapunzel let herself inside, fixing him with an interested look.

"What did Frank want to talk to you about?"

"He's getting rid of the shop, and he wants me to take over." Eugene cleared his throat.

Rapunzel's eyebrows just about shot up into her hair. "Oh! Eugene, that would be amazing for you! You would get to be your own boss!"

"Don't get too excited," he told her seriously. "I'm thinking about it. I don't know how I'd be running a business."

Rapunzel followed him into the kitchen and sat herself at one of the barstools. "Well, I think you'd be amazing. You're so clever, and you like to be busy. And I could help you there! I could work with you instead of at the cake shop!"

"Whoa, whoa, Blondie! We're not busy enough, remember? Imagine how dull the day would be with us _both_ working there. We seriously need to have a think about it all. I don't want to throw it back in Frank's face, but book shops aren't needed like they used to be. We could be digging ourselves a hole, honestly."

He saw her slip into thinking about the situation, and for a long time she didn't say anything. He packed away the dishes and turned on the television, and she sat herself on the floor and pinned patterns to fabric, cutting around them and pinning bits and pieces together silently. His eyes slipped between the movie he'd put on and her working, her bottom lip between her teeth and her eyebrows furrowed. Every so often, she's squeak as she pushed pins into her thumb instead of the fabric.

"What are you making?" he asked her when the movie had finished. She'd finished what she was doing for the night and threw it up on the kitchen counter so it was out of the way.

"A dress," she answered softly. "To wear on Sunday, when I meet my family."

"How are you feeling about Sunday?" he'd tried not to speak about it too much. He was constantly waiting for her to go all silent and anxious as she did, but so far she'd been pretty good.

She looked away from him now and let out a long sigh. He wondered how someone so small could fit so much air in their lungs. "I'm terrified," she answered him honestly. "This is just my biggest dream, and I worry that I'm too invested in it. They might not like me. What if they think I'm annoying? Or stupid? Or ugly?" tears stung her eyes and she swallowed incase her voice broke. "You and Cass and the guys at the Snuggly Duckling are the only people to ever actually like me, and that's not very many people compared to everyone I've met since I've been out."

"Blondie," he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck, holding her against his chest tightly. "Your parents are going to love you," he told her honestly. "Think about how long they've been looking for you – they love you already," her small hands crept up his back and her nails dug into his shirt, holding him tightly. "And there's no way they could think you're stupid, or ugly," he leaned back to make her look at him. "Annoying, maybe," they both laughed, Rapunzel quite nervously, and a huge, worried tear fell down her cheek.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do if it doesn't work the way I want it to. Sometimes I get so anxious that I can't even bring myself to talk, and if that happens we're just going to be sitting there in silence the whole time. They can't like me if that happens."

"Well, you'll have me to talk. I'll talk about all sorts of things, if you want. And you can correct me when I get things wrong, and then they'll know you're not stupid." She attempted a laugh, and he let his arms fall from her. "But you know what? They haven't been around yet, and I could be wrong, but you seem pretty happy to me."

"I am happy," she told him.

He smirked. "Well, there you go. You don't need them, see? It'll be great if it all works out and you can add them to your list of favourite people, but if it doesn't happen, you'll be fine. You can go out and find a new dream."


	22. Chapter 22

**Almost finished with the next chapter! Things are happening for our Rapunzel and Eugene.**

**I've taken a lot of Rapunzel's feelings for the next couple of chapters from my own anxiety struggles in life after being locked away for a really long time, so if that is going to be hard on anyone reading this, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep this as real as possible. Especially when I relate so much to our incredible Tangled princess.**

**I hope everyone is staying safe and careful at the moment! Take care of yourselves!**

* * *

Saturday was uneventful. Rapunzel was already up when Eugene woke, rolling over in confusion at a heavy, dragging noise.

She seemed completely oblivious to him, frowning as she held a steak knife in one hand and an instruction manual in the other, her sewing machine out of its box and Styrofoam thrown messily over the bench.

He watched her silently as she pulled at cords, plugging them into the side of the machine and placing the foot pedal quietly on the floor, nodding to herself happily. Then she sighed, looking toward Eugene and freezing when she saw him watching her.

"Good morning,"

"Morning," her voice didn't carry the same magic he was used to hearing. Her eyes were worried, but her lips were pressed together tightly, and he knew it was to hide how she was feeling.

"You got your machine set up," he pushed himself up and swung his legs out of bed. He was only in a pair of boxer briefs, and he noticed for the first time in a long time the air was chilly. Mornings were starting to cool down in Corona.

"Yeah, it's all set up. I didn't want to turn it on until you were awake. They're noisy things."

"Well, sew away. Was there anything else you wanted to do today?"

She shook her head sadly. "I think I kind of want to hide inside today, if that's alright. I'm not feeling too good."

He offered her a comforting smile, trying not to let any pity into his eyes. "We can lock ourselves in all day if you want, Blondie. You do whatever you want. I'm going to do some research about running businesses."

"Okay,"

She didn't appear in the bathroom while he showered, which had become something of a habit for her, so he knew she must have been more anxious than usual. He offered to make her breakfast, but she said she wasn't hungry. He watched her thread her sewing machine with the spool of cotton without hesitating at all, and admired yet another one of her hidden skills.

She was happy to keep herself busy with her new sewing machine for five hours or so. Eugene pulled out his laptop, which hadn't been used much since he'd purchased it, and made some notes on an old notepad he'd found in a kitchen drawer. He was going to have to talk to someone about all of this. He wanted to make sure he was doing something right, for once in his life.

Rapunzel's phone rang a couple of times around midday. She answered it nervously and paced around his kitchen, tugging at the ends of her hair as she told both Cass and the policeman who had been working on her case that she didn't need anyone else to accompany her tomorrow. Eugene gathered from her conversation with the police officer that he was aware Eugene would be going with her tomorrow. He wondered how much she'd told the man about who he was.

He made lunch for her without asking. He wasn't a great cook, but he grilled sandwiches really well, and she thanked him when he sat in the barstool beside her and slid her plate over to her, kissing her on the side of the head as he lifted his feet off the ground.

"I'm sorry I'm not myself," she said quietly as they ate.

"Don't apologise," he said comfortingly. "I want you to relax a little bit, but if you absolutely can't, don't worry about me in all of this. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I don't think I'm okay," she said in a breath.

He paused for a long moment, chewing his sandwich thoughtfully. "Rapunzel, if you absolutely don't want to do this, you don't have to. It's your decision, at the end of the day. I'm sure they would understand if you can't go through with it."

"No, I have do," she said decidedly. "They deserve it. And now that they know I'm coming, I can't back out. It would tear them to pieces."

Well, he wasn't going to disagree with that. He remembered how much media had been covering her disappearance when he was a child. How hopeful he'd been that he would be adopted by her parents, because it seemed they absolutely couldn't live without their child, and maybe they could heal themselves with him instead. He applauded them, actually. He knew of so many marriages falling apart when they'd lost a child, and somehow that hadn't happened here. They still appeared at events together, and still seemed very happy to be with each other. Well, from what he'd seen, at any rate. He couldn't have picked them out of a line-up, if he was being completely honest. He'd made the decision a long time ago to keep away from the local news.

Eugene was frowning at his laptop screen when Rapunzel cleared her throat for his attention, parading around in puffed-sleeved green sundress with a full skirt. He raised his eyebrows at her, impressed.

"Looks good, Blondie,"

It really did. It was unlike anything he'd seen a girl wear before, but while it was odd, it suited her. The bodice held her waist tightly and the skirt fell perfectly around her hips, the hem resting just above her knees. The sleeves were short and full and balanced her out perfectly. It looked like it could have been store-bought. It fit her as though it had been tailored by a master seamstress. She obviously knew exactly what she was doing.

"Do you think I should take the skirt up a bit? It might make me look a bit taller…" she bent at the hips to stare at her shins.

Eugene studied her for a moment, unsure of exactly what he was looking for but positive he liked her in green. "It looks perfect, Blondie. And I'm sure your parents aren't going to care about your height."

"I'm average height," she mumbled as she straightened back up to look at him.

He smirked, but resisted a chuckle. "Sure you are,"

Eugene turned his eyes back to his screen, where he was currently researching accountants and anyone who could help him step in the right direction of running a business, watching Rapunzel out of his peripheral vision as she reached behind herself and undid the zipper running down her spine. She pushed the dress down, over her hips, and left it piled on the floor, walking toward him slowly.

"What are you doing?"

"Just trying to make sense of all of this," he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, and leaned back in his chair to allow her space to sit on his lap. She was wearing a simple blue underwear set today, and seemed oblivious to the fact she was almost naked as she took in the writing on the screen.

"We can handle this, Eugene," her tone was overly positive, and she pursed her lips as she read through the information and turned to him curiously. "Are you seriously considering taking over?"

"I feel like it's the right thing to do," he said honestly. "Frank's done so much for me. I don't want to be the reason what he's built can't continue."

"You've got to do what's right for you as well, though," Rapunzel threw an arm over his shoulder and squeezed the back of his head comfortingly. "It's going to be a big decision. And a big life change. Do you think you want that right now?"

Eugene sighed again. "I feel like any kind of change right now would be for the better. I'm meant to be setting a good example of myself, and I don't see how taking over a business wouldn't work in my favour for that."

"Hm," Rapunzel stared at his lips for a long moment, but it wasn't until he rested his hand on her bare thigh her eyes widened and she jumped from his lap and turned back toward him in one quick movement. "Sorry – I'll go get dressed."

He wanted to tell her that was ridiculous. She was finally beginning to calm down and be comfortable around him, and he was eating it up completely. But he also knew she had a lot on her mind and was in a panic about the day that was coming so quickly. Hell, even _he_ was starting to stress about it.

Flynn Rider had never met a girl's parents before. Flynn had never even been around long enough to hear anything about anyone's parents. And now here he was, escorting this crazy, wide-eyed girl to meet her entire family after progressing half as far physically in their relationship after months than he normally would have within the space of a couple of hours.

And they were important people, too.

People who probably were well aware of the name 'Flynn Rider', and who were most likely involved in their society enough to be able to put a face to that name as well.

He swallowed nervously at the thought of entering their house and trying to act at ease, putting on a show not only for them, but for Rapunzel as well. Because he'd promised her he would be there for her, and whether he liked it or not he was quickly becoming her rock when things got too hard for her to handle. She wouldn't be able to deal with it if he backed out.

She must have paced the house one hundred times over before Eugene finally forced her toward the bed. Her freshly-sewn dress was draped over the back of one of the stools at the kitchen counter, ready for her to dress in first thing in the morning. She brushed her teeth twice and then laughed nervously at herself while he watched her with worry. She didn't seem to be completely aware he was around. He would catch her staring off into space and ask if she was okay, and she would force a grin and assure him everything was fine.

It wasn't until that night, when they were lying in the dark beside each other he felt her reach out and take his hand, rubbing her thumb along his knuckles as if trying to convince herself he was real and she wasn't alone.

"Eugene?"

"Yeah, Blondie?"

Her breath caught for a moment, and her voice sounded forced when she was finally able to speak. "I'm scared,"

Her voice was choked, and it tugged at him in a way he'd never experienced. Without even realising what he was doing, he pulled her toward him and forced her to rest her head on his chest, wrapping his arm around her and settling his hand on her bare back. Just holding her. A moment later he felt a flood of hot tears hit his skin heavily and he swallowed uncomfortably.

"You're going to be okay, Rapunzel. This will not be the scariest thing you've done since getting out, okay?" He hoped he was right. "You just need to get through until you meet them, and then I promise you'll feel so much better."

"I know," she swallowed past a lump in her throat. "I just don't want them to be disappointed in me."

"In you?" his voice took a lighter tone and he squeezed her back comfortingly. "How could anyone be disappointed in you, Blondie?"

She scoffed, "Everyone is so much better than me. Cass is so mature, and so knowledgeable about absolutely everything. I worry she looks down on me sometimes just because I have no idea about anything. It's embarrassing. And I ask myself why you entertain me every single day I'm with you."

He took that in for a moment too long. When he spoke again his voice was low and even. "Please don't ever think of me as better than you, Rapunzel. I've told you before how untrue that is. I don't want you to think that way."

"Eugene, look at you! Of course you're on an entirely different level to me! I know you've done some things that you maybe shouldn't have, and you like to beat yourself up about it, but you're honestly the most amazing person I've met since being out in the world, and I think that's saying something. I wish you saw yourself clearly." Her voice was starting to become slightly hysterical and Eugene found his hand moving to her hair and smoothing it comfortingly.

"Okay, Blondie," he said calmly. "I guess we'll just have to agree to like each other more than ourselves."

* * *

Rapunzel woke as the sun was starting to rise. And not even that nice kind of waking up, where you feel all hazy and decide to drift back off to sleep. The bad kind of waking up, where you feel like you've forgotten something or you're late to start the day.

But she wasn't late. She still had hours until she and Eugene needed to leave for the day.

To meet her parents.

She'd wanted to try sleeping as long as she could, so she wasn't up worrying about it, but her subconscious seemed to have other plans.

She sighed and turned toward the sleeping man beside her, smiling slightly as she watched him dream. He looked so different when he slept. All the carefully trained facial expressions of Flynn completely gone. One hundred percent Eugene.

She loved him so much. She wondered if it was the kind of love that people feel when they get married and have children, or whether it was the kind of love people have for their friends. She knew that she wanted to spend time with him over everyone else, but that didn't really tell her much. She loved Cass, and before Eugene she'd wanted her around all the time as well. But there was something different about Eugene. She didn't worry about him thinking she was stupid or saying something that would make him laugh at her, like she did with Cass. So maybe this was only the friend kind of love, but she felt better about it because she wasn't being so guarded?

She didn't want to kiss Cass, she decided finally. She liked the fact that she could feel the hairs on Eugene's chin, and how his moustache would scratch her top lip before he shaved every couple of days, and she liked how big his face was compared to hers. Cass was pretty and all, but she didn't wonder how her face smelled when she got that close and she wasn't intrigued by the squishiness of her lips at all.

Rapunzel pushed herself onto his pillow and kissed his lips softly, breathing in the smell of his skin and sleep. He drew in a deep breath and half-opened his eyes, watching her for a moment as he took in the early morning.

"Blondie," he yawned and rubbed at his face. "Why up so early?" He threw an arm over his head to make room for her, but she didn't lean into him automatically like she knew he'd expected.

"I woke up," obviously, Rapunzel. She chewed her lip. She decided she liked the hair under his arms. She tucked that thought away to ask if she could study them later, when he wasn't so tired.

"Come here," he rolled onto his back and pulled her toward him, tucking her head under his chin. The same position he had pulled her into last night while she cried. She felt safe here. Maybe the safest she had since leaving the house. Cass didn't make her feel safe like this…

"Sorry for waking you up," she said softly.

He yawned again and tapped her on the hip a couple of times. "S'okay. Go back to sleep," he strung his words together as if they were too difficult to enunciate, and she listened to his breath until he started up his quiet snores once more. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into the hairs on his chest. She loved those, as well. So safe. Eugene let her touch them all the time, and she'd decided they were one of her favourite parts about him. And his forearms, of course.

He was so warm and solid, and he smelled so good. The smell of Eugene was probably one of her favourite smells. Eugene and vanilla and sunflowers and freshly opened packs of coloured pencils.

Rapunzel wasn't sure if she'd actually fallen back to sleep at all. She'd been in that weird state of disassociation, where she felt like she could have been on the urge of dreams, but had no idea what her last thoughts had been, when Eugene's alarm finally went off at nine o'clock. He'd intended for them to have a sleep-in. She wasn't sure if that was to stop her from freaking out for as long as possible, or whether Eugene had just felt tired while setting it.

"Good morning," he said, a long moment after turning it off.

"It's today," her voice sounded calmer than she'd expected it to.

"It is," he agreed quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," she thought for a short second, then bounded out of bed with the nerves and excitement flooding through her in one quick, messy movement. She landed heavily on her feet and took off to the bathroom to run a shower, hoping that would help calm her down.

Eugene didn't join her in the shower. She wondered why. She wondered if he was worried about her being even more fragile than normal today. She kind of wished he'd joined her. She could have taken her mind off what was going on by figuring how to touch him to make him orgasm again. His face was so beautiful when he did that. That would have been a perfect distraction.

Eugene had made her a cup of peppermint tea when she left the bathroom, wearing her pink towel because she couldn't decide what underwear to put on today. She supposed she should go back to her home and exchange clothes sometime soon. Eugene was probably getting sick of her at this point.

Two-and-a-half hours until she would be meeting her parents. She thought about it, chewing on the inside of her lip while Eugene made her bacon and toast. For the first time in the long time she didn't stress to fill the silence with pointless facts or surprising questions. She couldn't even bring herself to focus on looking at Eugene in his underwear, which was really hard, because she usually loved studying the lines between the muscles in his thighs and the way his feet looked travelling from his ankles. Beautiful Eugene.

He spoke to her gently and cheerfully while they ate. She knew he was trying to make her feel better about everything, but his tone of voice wasn't exactly right and she seemed to not know how to respond properly.

"So you're going to wear your new dress today?"

"Yep,"

"That will look nice…"

"I hope so,"

She knew she was being short and frustrating, but she just couldn't bring herself to string more than a few words together. She felt bad. Eugene must have been nervous too, surely, and here he was trying to ease her mind. She forced the rest of her toast into her mouth and leaned forward, resting a comforting hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?"

He obviously wasn't expecting that. He looked at her with surprise and frowned. "Yeah…are _you_ okay, Blondie?"

"I don't know…" she was about to really try to figure out how she was feeling, but her phone rang from the little coffee table next to the couch and she raced to answer it.

It was Cassandra, calling to wish her the best of luck. _Someone_ seemed to think everything was okay, at least. Rapunzel felt as though she was in a daze as she answered Cass robotically, somehow feeling more and more nervous with each word her friend said.

_"Are you sure you don't want me to come out today, Raps? I don't mind. I could meet Eugene, and you'd have double the support –"_

"I'm sure, thanks Cass." The last think she needed was her over-protective friend blowing up about her seeing who was apparently the worst man in the world.

_"Alright,"_ Cass sounded a little disappointed, but understanding. _"Keep me updated. And let me know if you need anything. I'll see you soon, okay?"_

"Okay," the phone went silent, and Rapunzel still held it to her ear. She noticed her hands were beginning to tremble. Her heart seemed to be beating way too fast, like it was when she was leaving the house for the first time. Except this didn't feel like it was going to go away any time soon, this felt like it would be with her forever. She felt sick in her stomach. She grabbed the first set of underwear she came to and ripped them on forcefully, stepping into her dress and struggling with the zip while Eugene watched her with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Let's go out," she said decidedly. "I need to go for a walk."

Rapunzel was already halfway through the opened door when she turned around to question why Eugene wasn't following her already.

"I should probably put on some pants."


End file.
